


Fraternizing

by Caedmon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (for this chapter only), (only for this chapter), (well it's actually 1603 but we're not splitting hairs here), Anal Sex, Ancient Rome, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley is a nun, Cunnilingus, Drinking, EVEN MORE SEX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Marriage, First Time Blow Jobs, He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), House Party, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), I'll have to explain this one to St Peter, Love Confessions, M/M, Medieval France, Misunderstandings, More Cunnilingus, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Orgy, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Regency, Rimming, Scene: Globe Theatre 1601 (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), a moderate amount of blasphemy, but if I'm going to hell I'm taking you horny fuckers with me, love realizations, miracles during sex, no refractory period for ethereal/occult beings, oral sex in every chapter, sex in every chapter, tags will be in order of chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Coming to each other's aid and staying out of the way wasn't the only agreement Crowley and Aziraphale had. It began in Rome, and carried on for centuries. A smutty, slow burn romp through the ages.Written for the Good Omens Big Bang 2019.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 220
Kudos: 664
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. Rome, 148ad

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my new story! 
> 
> This has been a labor of love, and of hatred at times. I've almost given up on it a hundred times, but managed to cobble something passable together, and now I'm posting it. This story was lovingly beta'd by Rose--Nebula and Lurlur, the latter of which worked so hard on this story, I feel like she should get co-author credit. Especially on the first chapter. Thank you so much, ladies, for keeping me going when I wanted to give up, and for all the love you gave me. I love you both. 
> 
> Artwork is by the lovely and talented ohstars, who took a chance on me and my little story. Thank you, dear! 
> 
> The usual disclaimers:  
> ~I update like clockwork on Mondays and Thursdays. There will be six chapters, and the last chapter will go up on Feburary 6.  
> ~This story may be beta'd, but I'd bet my house there are still mistakes. Those are entirely my fault.  
> ~Kudos and comments are the beating heart of the muse. Thank you for them.  
> ~I own nothing. All credit goes to Mr. Gaiman and Mr. Pratchett. I'm merely playing with their toys. I'll put them back when I finish. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley hated these things, really. You’d think that, as a demon whose sole jobs were temptation and making trouble, he’d enjoy the hedonism of the Roman banquets (that always, _always_ dissolved into an orgy), but he really didn’t. Personally, he preferred to work on a much larger scale, frustrating the populace by taking down an aqueduct or convincing the coliseum lions to take up vegetarianism. He tended to employ temptations on a more personal basis, wooing people into morally questionable behavior one-by-one. But with the unbridled hedonism at these banquets… it felt his skills were redundant. 

Not that he had anything against sex - he certainly didn’t, both in theory and in practice. It was a handy tool of temptation, nearly always effective, and he actually rather enjoyed sex for his own sake on occasion, when he could find someone to interest him. There was nothing unpleasant about orgasm, nothing at all. But _this_... he looked around the banquet that was well on its way to becoming a bacchanal with mild distaste. This was taking a good thing entirely too far, in his humble opinion, and it left his mood a bit sour. 

Still, he needed to be here, needed to cultivate powerful allies, so the temptations to come later would be easier. This was a necessary part of his job, he supposed. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could find someone or something to distract him tonight.

His stomach flipped curiously when he spotted a familiar, white-blond mess of curls across the room. _Aziraphale._ What the devil was he doing here, at a banquet like this? No matter, he didn’t suppose. The sight of his hereditary enemy was a welcome one, just as it always was. They’d run into each other fairly often over the last century or so, both being stationed to Rome, and Crowley had come to look forward to his dealings with the angel. 

Now, he thought, this party might actually be worth his time. 

He made his way across the room, picking his way through the sea of people just beginning to branch off into twos and threes and relieve themselves of clothing. As he got closer, he noticed the angel looking around the room with an expression on his face that was part distaste, part alarm. Crowley smirked a little to himself. 

“Hello, Aziraphale,” he greeted once he got close enough. 

The angel glanced up and a weak, polite smile graced his features, although he still looked uncomfortable. Crowley noticed he was wringing his hands slightly. 

“Oh, hello, Crowley. I might have known I’d see you here.”

Crowley ignored that. “First time at an orgy?”

Aziraphale’s brow wrinkled again. “Yes, if you must know. I’ve been to banquets, of course, but always made my excuses before things… escalated.”

The demon grinned. “So why are you here now, if you find it all so distasteful? Are you on some kind of assignment?”

He nodded his cottony head. “Yes, in a way. I’ve been tasked with trying to ease the plight of the Christians, and one needs powerful allies to accomplish that. I was making headway, but… well… _pointed comments_ were starting to be made about how I always left before things… got started.”

“You don’t have to have sex to save poor zealots from martyrdom, if you don’t want to. Upstairs wouldn’t _force_ you into sex, would they?” Honestly, Crowley didn’t know. Heaven could be so fucking diabolical, he wouldn’t put it past them. 

“It’s not the sex,” Aziraphale said, still looking around the room. 

“Well, then, what is it about these banquets that has you all in a lather, if not the sex?”

“It’s just that my understanding is that sex at these events can get a bit… wild. Unrestrained.”

Crowley leered at him. “Sex is supposed to be wild and unrestrained, angel. That’s what makes it fun.”

Aziraphale cut him a look. “It shouldn’t be _dangerous_. I understand that certain people like to indulge in… things I wouldn’t like to participate in, and I worry about finding myself stuck with just such a partner. That’s not even _touching_ on the fact that engaging in sexual congress with a complete stranger doesn’t sound terribly appealing to me. I hear frequently that people who have sex at these parties don’t even know each other’s names! Oh,” he fretted, eyes lined with worry, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“So seek out _new_ allies,” Crowley suggested. “Or find another way.”

“I’ve tried nearly everything,” the angel complained, wringing his hands again. “And I have to do _something_. This mission was classified priority four - the very highest of importance. I just… I rather dread going through with the… less savory aspects.”

There was something painfully familiar about the way Aziraphale fretted about failing. Ruefully, Crowley decided to admit as much. 

“This isn’t exactly my scene, either,” he confessed. “But I’m also on a mission, and like you, that involves becoming a regular amongst the movers and shakers of Rome. So we’re here on the same errand.”

“For very different purposes,” Aziraphale said archly, with the arrogance one would expect from a Principality. 

“Of course,” Crowley agreed smoothly, despite feeling a bit stung by the casual and careless way the angel put him down.

The two lapsed into silence as they watched the people around them become more and more intimate with each other. An idea suddenly occurred to Crowley like a bolt of lightning, and he fought down a smile.

“Say, angel, if you feel as if you _must_ have sex in order to blend in, perhaps you’d like to engage with me?”

“Perhaps I’d like to do _what_ now?”

“Have, y’know, sex. With me.”

Aziraphale raked him from head to toe with an assessing look, and Crowley resisted the urge to preen. But the angel pursed his lips and said, “ _Really_ , now.”

Crowley shrugged. “At least it wouldn’t be with a stranger. We’ve known each other for hundreds upon hundreds of years. You certainly know my name - you knew it before I changed it! And, as you pointed out, you never know what whatever partner you find in one of these orgies might be into if you don’t know them. They might ask unspeakable things of you and expect you to deliver.”

Aziraphale seemed to be considering that for a moment, then turned away with pursed lips again. “As if you wouldn’t expect me to perform some dastardly, despicable act.”

“Sex is not dastardly or despicable, angel. Just what kind of sex have you been having? Or haven’t you…” He paused, incredulous. “Wait. Haven’t you… you know? Fucked? With a human?”

Aziraphale’s face was several shades of red. “Of course I’ve… experimented. But it’s all been in a much more _controlled_ environment. And never with more than one partner at a time. I don’t think I would like that. But you are a _demon_.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, so that means I must be deeply depraved?”

“Are you not?”

“Of course not! I enjoy sex as much as the next man-shaped being, but I have no wish to hurt my partners. You’d be safe with me, angel, and that’s not a guarantee you’ll get from anyone else at this bacchanal.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “The promises of a demon can hardly be trusted.”

That barbed comment hit him directly in the heart, but Crowley managed to shrug again, as if unconcerned. “Suit yourself. But the offer is still open. You only have to say the word.”

“Noted,” the angel said, looking out over the crowd, that look of apprehension back on his face. 

“I’ll be here for another hour or so,” Crowley explained. “In case you change your mind.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” Aziraphale sniffed, but his voice wasn’t entirely sure, and Crowley hid a smirk.

~*~O~*~

Despite having only offered to wait for an hour, Crowley hung around for almost two before deciding to call it quits and head back to his villa. From the moment he’d seen Aziraphale, any thoughts of delighting a handful of humans with his otherworldly stamina had been banished. What little enthusiasm he might have been able to muster for a politically advantageous fuck had fled after exchanging just a few words with Aziraphale. There was simply no one else he wanted.

Frustrated with himself and confused by his feelings, he drained his goblet and sat it down on a nearby table. He’d been there long enough, he’d made his presence known, and could be forgiven for wanting to leave early. Perhaps he’d gain a reputation for being picky about his partners - which wasn’t entirely untrue. If pressed, he could simply claim he’d had a headache. A bit more wine, and that might also be true. 

He decided not to let anyone know he was leaving, even though he was tempted to hunt down Aziraphale and make his offer one more time. But Crowley knew a bad idea when he saw one. Asking again was just a touch too close to begging for his liking. Begging was very unbecoming of a demon, and should be avoided if at all possible. Therefore, he wouldn’t look for the Principality and just make a quick exit. 

Muttering to himself as he picked his way across the crowd, mood back to bleak, Crowley felt a hand at his arm. 

“Not interested,” he barked, not bothering to look at whoever was seeking his attention. 

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, I thought…”

Crowley felt his foul mood evaporate as he turned to look at Aziraphale, a smile blooming across his face. “Changed your mind, did you?”

He was blushing furiously, not meeting Crowley’s eye, and he dropped his hand. “Yes, I suppose I have. That is, if… if you’re still willing.”

Oh, Crowley was willing, alright. His cock stirred beneath his clothes, and a curving smile crept across his face. “Might as well,” he said nonchalantly, with a little smirk. 

“Well then.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, then made a vague gesture back towards the orgy. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” Crowley agreed with a huge smile, offering his arm. “Let’s.”

The two went back into the bacchanal, and Crowley glanced around the room for an open couch, bed, table - any available space, really. It seemed, however, that every flat surface was covered by people engaged in varying sexual acts. The thought that he was about to do some of those acts with the angel was thrilling, but he didn’t let his cool exterior crack. It wouldn’t do to seem too eager. Besides, they couldn’t do _anything_ until they found a place.

As if Aziraphale had heard his thoughts, he cleared his throat and said, “I believe, if you look just beyond the curtains to the balcony, you’ll find an empty couch.”

Crowley gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t know there _was_ a balcony, much less a deserted one.”

“That’s because there wasn’t until about thirty seconds ago,” Aziraphale explained cooly. “I just miracled it together.”

The demon gave him a grin. “You naughty thing. What will the senator say when he sees an addition on his house?”

“I’ll get rid of it when we’re… when we’re done. He’ll never be any the wiser. Now can we…?”

“Yes, of course,” Crowley agreed. “Lead the way.”

They crossed the room arm in arm, a destination before them now, Crowley’s heart skipping oddly. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was actually _excited_ about the prospect of sex. It couldn’t be because of the angel, could it? That was ludicrous, but he really couldn’t think of another explanation. It didn’t matter, he decided. He _was_ excited, and felt as if he were about to get a long-awaited treat - even though he’d never really considered bedding the angel before. 

After what seemed like an eternity, through a sea of twisting and wriggling bodies that was entirely too reminiscent of hell, they arrived at the newly-miracled balcony. It boasted a lovely view of the city, and Crowley took a minute to enjoy the sight, as well as the cool evening breeze. There was a red couch there in the middle of the white marble balcony, empty and inviting, wide and very comfortable-looking. Plenty of room for two people to make use of. He glanced back towards the party to see that the orgy was still very much going on, but the view was somewhat obscured by gauzy curtains. It lent an air of privacy to the balcony, and it was easy to forget that the rest of the revelers were even there. 

Perhaps it had been miracled that way.

Aziraphale dropped his arm and cleared his throat, getting Crowley’s attention. The demon did his best to look almost bored, raising a curious eyebrow and letting the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Yes, angel?”

“I think we should make clear, before we begin, that this is a one-time thing. It wouldn’t do for this to become habit.”

That stung unexpectedly, but Crowley didn’t let on. “A habit?”

“Yes. We shouldn’t be doing this anyway - hell would destroy you, and heaven would _certainly_ reassign me…”

“You don’t think hell would be delighted by the idea of me seducing an angel?” Crowley asked casually. 

He immediately regretted the question when Aziraphale narrowed his flashing eyes at him suspiciously. “Is that why you’re doing this? Attempting to make me Fall?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’m offering because we both need to be here, but neither of us want to have sex with anyone else. Hell will never find out - I swear it.”

Aziraphale snorted. “The word of a demon is worthless.”

“We both know you’re fully capable of destroying me. If I go back on my word and tell Hell about this, you have my wholehearted permission to do so. Destroy me, that is. Does that satisfy your concern?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion. “Oh, I simply couldn’t! But you’re serious, aren’t you?” he relaxed a little, somewhat mollified. “I suppose I can accept that as proof of your intentions.”

“Wonderful, I’d hate to be smited over a misunderstanding.” The wine had fuzzed his mind at the edges. “Smited? Smote? Smitten? You know what I mean,” Crowley smiled with genuine joy. “Seems a bit foolish to make such a decree at this point, about doing this again. Maybe you’ll find me irresistible.”

Aziraphale huffed, looking more amused than indignant. “That hardly seems likely, Crowley.”

Crowley pressed his advantage. “In all seriousness, what if we find ourselves in this sort of situation again? No point writing off the chance to safely maintain our respective covers, I’d say. Maybe it’ll never come up again, but wouldn’t you rather have the option of a decent fuck?”

The angel was quiet for a moment, considering, his lips slightly pursed (perhaps from Crowley’s use of the word ‘fuck’), then he gave another short nod. “Alright, then. We won’t seek out opportunities. Now if you’re quite ready…”

All at once, Crowley found himself with an armful of angel, hands clutching him and his surprised mouth being kissed inexpertly. He staggered, flailing a little and trying to regain his balance. Aziraphale followed him, pulling at his clothing, and Crowley stumbled backwards until his legs hit the couch and he had the presence of mind to grab Aziraphale by the shoulders, breaking the kiss. 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he said, pushing back slightly. 

Aziraphale looked confused. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to want to jump right into it like that.”

The look of confusion grew. “Well, how _else_ would you go about it? I thought two people just agreed to…”

“Fuck,” Crowley supplied with a lopsided grin.

Aziraphale’s cheeks colored a bit. Adorably. 

“Yes, that. And then they just… got on with it.”

Crowley couldn't help but feel sorry for him. If that was what he believed sex was like after four thousand years, he’d probably never been properly satisfied. The thought filled him with a bit of glee - and a determination to change all that.

“I’m sure that some people decide to fuck, then jump right to the main event, but it really is ever so much better if you allow yourself to take your time.”

“Take your time?”

“Yes. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Aziraphale looked wary. “What do you intend to do?”

He lightly trailed his fingertips down the angel’s bare arm. “I’d very much like to seduce you, if you’re amenable. In a good way.”

“But we’ve already agreed --”

Crowley bit back a sigh. “Yes, I _know_ we’ve already agreed to have sex, but you’ve been missing out on quite a lot of fun if you’ve been entirely skipping foreplay.”

“Foreplay?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Crowley swore under his breath. How the bloody hell did this poor creature not know about foreplay? How had he had sex over the last four millennia - presumably with multiple partners - and _no one_ had bothered with foreplay?

He decided not to dwell too much on the stab of jealousy he felt thinking about other people touching Aziraphale and doing such a piss-poor job of it. 

Crowley took a deep breath. “You may balk at the idea, angel, but I’d like to ask you to trust me.” 

Aziraphale’s brows raised. “Trust _you_?”

He grit his teeth a little. “Yes, trust _me_. I’ve already offered you my word - and consequences if I break it. And you’ve already proven you trust me not to do anything you don’t like, by agreeing to have sex with me. Why don’t you trust me a little more, and allow me to show you just how pleasurable it could be? I’m only asking you to take it a single step further, really.”

The angel was considering this, Crowley could tell, and his heart thudded. _Just say yes,_ he thought. _Just give me a chance, you heavenly bastard._

“Al- alright,” he finally agreed. “I’ll trust you. What do you want me to do? How do we begin?”

Crowley gestured to the couch behind himself. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Aziraphale gave a curt nod and sat down primly, arranging his short, white toga, then folding his hands in his lap. In anyone else, Crowley would have seen the gesture as a hint of nervousness, and perhaps that was true here, too, but he had known the angel long enough to recognise his habits. Once he seemed settled, Crowley adjusted his own toga and sat next to him, a little closer than could be considered polite, but he figured given what they were about to do, being a little close was permissible. Besides, he was beset with a sudden feeling of _want_. He _wanted_ the angel.

Crowley had tempted hundreds of souls via seduction - possibly thousands - and he’d never once been nervous. It had all been just part of his job, something he did. They certainly hadn’t excited him, in any way. Yet as he sat here now, on the miracled balcony of a Roman senator’s villa, preparing to to seduce an angel (and frankly, the most desirable creature he’d seen in, well, _ever_ ), he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous - and excited. He didn’t bother to assess _why_ he felt those things - this wasn’t a moment for thinking. If he were to allow himself to think, he’d have to wonder why he hadn’t seen Aziraphale as an object of desire sooner. Now wasn’t the time. He just filed those thoughts away to dwell on later and prepared himself for what he was about to do. 

“The first thing you need to do, angel, is loosen up. I’m not going to hurt you, and you’re going to enjoy what we do. I promise. So loosen up.”

Aziraphale gave him an unsure look, then a little nod with pursed lips. He rolled his shoulders in a gesture of attempted relaxation, then bent his head side to side, popping his neck. Crowley watched him with something like hunger, eyeing the creamy skin of his neck, wanting to taste. 

Soon. Very soon.

Once Aziraphale had gone still again, Crowley said in a gentle tone, “I’d like to touch you now. Would that be alright?”

Aziraphale swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing, but gave a short nod. “Alright.”

Crowley laid a hand on the angel’s leg gently, letting his thumb glide back and forth over the skin of his knee. He didn’t push farther than that, not yet, he just softly stroked Aziraphale’s skin. 

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. I’m - I’m alright.”

“Good. I’d like to kiss you now. May I?”

“Yes.”

The angel turned to face Crowley and puckered his lips slightly, closing his eyes, obviously waiting for a kiss. The demon smiled to himself, amused, then ducked his head around to place his lips on Aziraphale’s neck, just under his jaw. 

“Oh!” he said, jumping a little under Crowley’s lips. “I expected you to - nevermind.”

Crowley trailed kisses up his neck, towards his ear. “Alright, though?” he murmured, just to be sure. 

“Mhm.”

“Good.” Crowley let his tongue dart out to taste, touching the hollow behind his ear. He tasted - well, _heavenly_. Sweet and soft and perfect. He wanted more of that taste, so he parted his lips and started leaving slightly wet, open-mouth kisses along the column of his neck. He twisted his body, removing his right hand from Aziraphale’s thigh and replacing it with his left, a little higher up, slightly under the hem of the white toga. His cock was like iron already, his heart was pounding a rapid tattoo in his chest, and he was dying for more, for _everything_ , but he was still mindful not to spook the angel. If he got scared now and called a halt to what they were doing, Crowley feared he may discorporate on the spot. 

“I’d like to touch you more and kiss you properly. May I?” he whispered. 

He felt Aziraphale nod. “Yes,” he breathed. 

Crowley left one last kiss on the angel’s throat, then pulled back slightly. He searched Aziraphale’s face for any sign of distress in the low light, vowing to himself that he’d stop everything - no matter the cost to himself - if he saw any fear in the blue eyes. But he didn’t. He only saw anticipation, curiosity, and something he almost dared to hope might be _want_. He brought his free hand up to cup Aziraphale’s gorgeous face, then leaned in, letting his lips graze the angel’s. Something electric passed between them, some jolt of something, and both of them inhaled sharply. But Crowley only hesitated a second before he pressed his lips to the angel’s more firmly. 

Had he thought tasting Aziraphale’s skin was lovely? That was _nothing_ compared to the way his mouth tasted. Honey and spice and wine and every good thing, all combined into this one being sitting beside him. Crowley was helpless but to deepen the kiss, sending his tongue out to explore the angel’s mouth tentatively. Aziraphale made a soft, whimpering sound, and Crowley empathized wholeheartedly. His bones felt like gelatin and there was something like a current pulsing through him. As wonderful as this was, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough. 

He decided in that moment to make this night one Aziraphale would never forget, so he would want to do this with Crowley over and over again. 

The hand not cradling the angel’s face crept up his thigh slowly, alert for any signs of resistance. There were none, and Crowley was delighted. In fact, Aziraphale was kissing him back - artless and messy but definitely enthusiastic - and his legs spread ever so slightly. The demon took that as an engraved invitation and sent his hand higher under the toga, inching closer to where he wanted to be, until the tips of his fingers touched Aziraphale’s cock - and found it _quite_ hard.

Crowley broke the kiss for air, unable to fight a little smirk of satisfaction. “Seems I’m doing something right.”

Aziraphale, breathing heavily, nodded. “Yes. You are.”

“Do you want to continue?” he asked, still touching lightly and using his free hand to fiddle with the fastening of Aziraphale’s toga. “If you want to back out, you can.”

_Please don’t back out. Please don’t back out. Please don’t --_

The angel shook his head. “I don’t want to back out. I want this.”

Crowley attacked his mouth, kissing him wildly, his hand wrapping around the hard cock and finding it deliciously thick. A slow pumping revealed that it was also nice and long, and _fucking hell_ , did Crowley ever want to get his mouth around that. He couldn’t contemplate being fucked by it right now - his brain might explode. He calmed himself a bit, not rushing forward the way his body craved. This had to be done right. 

He did, however, start to work on the fastening of Aziraphale’s toga in earnest, his fingers fumbling a little in his haste. He was just contemplating pulling his hand off the angel’s hard cock to help when suddenly, the fastening and fabric beneath his fingers disappeared. He broke the kiss in surprise, breathing hard, and found Aziraphale sitting there naked. 

“I figured it would be most expedient to remove them all via miracle,” he explained, flushing adorably. “I hope you don’t mind that I removed yours, too.”

Crowley hadn’t even fucking _noticed_ that his toga had been removed, but when he glanced down at himself, sure enough, he was completely naked. 

“Good thinking, angel,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. And it _was_ good thinking. Personally, Crowley had gotten so wrapped up in the taste and feel of Aziraphale, he’d completely forgotten that using a miracle was an option. He wouldn’t forget again. 

To his great surprise, Aziraphale reached up and laid his hand on Crowley’s chest, sliding it down, watching the path of it with his crystalline blue eyes. “So lean,” he commented, almost to himself. “So slender. Snakelike, even in human form.”

Crowley didn’t say anything; he wanted the angel to keep touching him like that and shivered under the caress. Aziraphale didn’t stop when he passed below Crowley’s waist, just trailed his fingers down, down, down, until he came to the demon’s eager cock. 

“Is that for me?” he asked, looking up into Crowley’s wide eyes.

Crowley nodded, then forced words past the inexplicable knot in his throat. “Yes. That’s all for you.”

He shuddered when Aziraphale traced the length of his cock, then wrapped his hand around it. For the first time in aeons, he prayed, begging some higher power that the angel wouldn’t find him lacking. 

Just who was seducing who here?

Resolving to take control of the situation again, he tipped Aziraphale’s chin up until he was looking at him with guileless eyes. He closed the short distance between their mouths and kissed him soundly, lips parting and tongues tangling. Crowley just basked in the kiss for a minute while the angel pumped his cock, until he was craving more skin contact so powerfully, he felt absolutely compelled to change their positions. He decided that getting horizontal was a very good idea, and gently pushed against Aziraphale’s shoulder, guiding him backwards and following him down. 

It took some maneuvering on both their parts, but in just a moment, they were lying together on the couch, bodies pressed together, cocks rubbing against each other. Aziraphale’s body was the perfect complement to Crowley’s, soft curves against sharp angles, and it didn’t escape his notice how perfectly they fit together. 

Crowley rolled the angel onto his back and climbed overtop him, straddling his waist and propping his arms by his shoulders. Aziraphale clung to him, his soft hands running the length of Crowley’s back and down to his arse. He couldn’t help but rut against Aziraphale, their cocks providing each other with friction. The kiss finally broke, but Crowley didn’t move away, just panted for air above Aziraphale’s open mouth, their breaths mingling. 

“Has anyone ever sucked you off, angel?” he asked in a low voice he hoped was seductive. 

“N-no, I can’t say they have.”

A thrill shot all through Crowley that he’d be the first to give him this, and something like possessiveness that he tried to push aside. 

“Can I?” he asked, sounding more eager than he liked. “I promise - I _swear_ you’ll like it.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer verbally, he just nodded, wide-eyed. Crowley smiled and pressed one more quick kiss to his lips, fighting the urge to thank him. 

Then he started trailing kisses, nips, and licks down the angel’s torso, enjoying the way Aziraphale would jump when something felt particularly good. He took all the time he could stand until he finally reached his destination, settling between the angel’s deliciously thick thighs. 

Aziraphale’s cock bobbed in front of Crowley’s face, mouthwateringly gorgeous, and he took a minute just to savor the view. He’d never seen a cock quite as perfect, nor one that had him feeling quite so desperate. It was flushed red, the head almost purple, and a little jewel of moisture beaded at the tip. Crowley licked his lips involuntarily, wanting to taste, and darted his eyes up to Aziraphale’s face. The angel was staring intently down at him, pupils blown, mouth parted, waiting breathlessly. 

Crowley grinned up at him, maintaining eye contact, then put out his tongue and licked a long stripe up the length of him, from base to tip. Aziraphale moaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Do it - do it again,” he requested, his voice sounding strained. 

“Oh, I’m going to, angel. I’m going to do that over and over until you explode in my mouth.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Aziraphale swore. 

“You’re going to remember this night for millennia to come,” Crowley vowed. 

“Please, Crowley. _Please_ ,” he begged, and the demon grinned. Angels didn’t beg, and Crowley was ridiculously pleased to have this one doing so. 

“Whatever you want, angel,” he said silkily, then positioned himself at the head of Aziraphale’s straining cock and engulfed him. The angel’s hips surged up from the couch, but Crowley was prepared and moved with him, sucking gently until he settled down a bit. Once he was calmer, Crowley set about swirling his tongue around the leaking head of Aziraphale’s fat cock, licking up his taste and moaning with pleasure. Aziraphale moaned, too, his fingers winding their way into Crowley’s hair and clenching, giving the demon the slightest edge of pain. He loved it, every cell in his body becoming even more aroused, and he focused his attention on bringing the most possible pleasure to the being in front of him. 

He bobbed his head, sucking and licking ardently, his hand stroking the part of Aziraphale’s cock that Crowley’s mouth couldn't easily reach. The angel was a symphony of groans and pleas, writhing beneath him, his eyes closed and head thrown back. The only words he seemed capable of were ‘yes’, ‘God’, ‘fuck’, and Crowley’s name, which gave him tremendous satisfaction. The angel was falling apart, and Crowley wasn’t even close to done with him. 

Seeking more, he miracled some oil onto his finger and sought out Aziraphale’s entrance, circling it. Aziraphale went very still but didn’t protest, and Crowley silently urged him to relax while he massaged the little hole and sucked his cock eagerly. 

Eventually, Aziraphale did relax, and Crowley took that as permission to continue. He pressed his finger inside slowly, positively _bathing_ in the broken moan Aziraphale gave. Gently but quickly, he sought out the spot he knew would give the angel the most pleasure, and nearly got bucked off the couch when he found it. 

“Crowley… Crowley… what are you…?”

Crowely pulled his mouth off long enough to ask, “Do you want me to stop?”

“ _Don’t you dare_ ,” Aziraphale hissed, and Crowley smirked a bit before returning to the cock in front of him, sucking and licking greedily. He added a second finger beside the first, seeking to massage that spot even more thoroughly, and the sounds Aziraphale was making, the sounds of him pleading, were nearly enough to bring Crowley to his own orgasm. 

From the sharp, involuntary thrusts of his hips, Crowley sensed the angel was getting close. He debated his options for a moment, then came to an extremely quick decision. Fucking Aziraphale would be divine, but in this moment, Crowley wanted nothing more than to taste the angel’s pleasure, to have it run down his throat - or all over his face. To that end, he removed his hand from around Aziraphale’s cock and took it as far as he could into his mouth, grateful he didn’t have to deal with anything so stupidly human as a gag reflex. Aziraphale let out a ragged sound, but Crowley didn’t stop taking him deep into his throat. The angel shouted something unintelligible, fisting his hands in Crowley’s hair painfully, egging him on. Crowley bobbed on him at this new depth, still using his fingers to stroke the spot inside him, and swallowed around Aziraphale’s cock. 

It was the swallowing that did it. Aziraphale made a strangled sound bereft of consonants and exploded, his body arching off the couch in a bow, spilling his seed down Crowley’s eager throat. The sweet agony on his face was the most erotic thing Crowley had ever seen in his life, and he watched him carefully even as he worked him through his orgasm, milking every drop of pleasure he could from the angel until he collapsed in a sweat-sheened, panting heap. 

Ever the devil, Crowley gently slid his fingers in and out of his loosened hole a few more times while he licked the angel’s cock clean. Aziraphale was boneless: a gasping, shuddering mess, and Crowley felt more satisfied than he’d ever felt in four thousand years. Smiling, he placed a little kiss on the head of Aziraphale’s cock and sat up, smug.

“How was that, angel?” 

Aziraphale’s chest was heaving as he caught his breath. “That was… It was…”

“Good, yes?”

“Oh, yes. Very, _very_ good.”

“Glad to hear it.” Crowley miracled his clothes back on and smoothed his hair down. Aziraphale sat up suddenly, looking confused and a little alarmed. 

“Don’t you want me to…?”

“Next time, angel.”

“I thought we agreed there wouldn’t be a next time?” Aziraphale demanded tartly.

Crowley arched an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that after _that_ , you won’t be open to the possibility of sex with me in the future?”

“You’re impossible,” Aziraphale complained, miracling his own toga on. “I shouldn’t have expected any better from a demon.”

Crowley smirked. “That wasn’t a denial.”

Aziraphale looked unsure, then tried again. “Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like to…?”

“Fuck?”

“Yes. I’m amenable, if you must know. And we’re already here…”

God, Crowley wanted to. He wanted to fuck the angel into oblivion, and then _be_ fucked over the edge of the sofa, over and over until both of them were entirely spent. And that would take quite a while, considering the refractory times for divine and occult beings was nil. They could be fucking _right now_ , and Crowley was nearly dizzy with the idea. 

But he knew temptation inside and out, and knew that the best way to ensure someone coming back for more was to leave them _wanting_ more. Give them enough to please them, but leave them with a craving, a gnawing hunger that would grow over time until it demanded to be satisfied. And as much as it killed him to say no now, he knew the payoff at some point in the future would be well worth it. 

“I’m - amenable, as you say - to doing this anytime you like, after tonight. But I’m wanting to do this again sometime, and the best way to ensure you want to have sex at some point in the future is to leave you wanting more now.”

“But… but!”

“Yes?”

“Oh, you’re _impossible_. Truly a foul creature.”

Crowley grinned unrepentantly. “Quite.” He got to his feet. “Thank you for making an otherwise dull evening much more enjoyable.”

Aziraphale stood, too, still looking uncertain - and still a little disgruntled. “I did?”

“Oh, very much, angel. I’m hoping you’ll reconsider your stance on never doing this again.”

The angel looked as if he wanted to say something, but Crowley didn’t let him, afraid his own resolve would break. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek, lingering just a moment. “Until next time,” he whispered, then turned and left the balcony, through the gauzy curtains, silently hoping that he’d just done the right thing - and not just fucked his chances of being with the angel in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the lovely art that ohstars made for this chapter! 


	2. France, 1202ad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my beautiful betas, Rose--Nebula and Lurlur. This fic would suck ass without them. They deserve more credit than they're willing to take.

Crowley was getting bored. 

He had been living in France for the last few years, doing everything he could to avoid the Holy Land and the blessed _crusades_. Home office was thrilled with the level of violence and bloodshed, but Crowley had never been much into that sort. Besides, the humans didn’t need any help to want to tear each other to shreds. They did that all on their own, all the time. Crowley was happy to take credit, of course, but he actively avoided getting his hands dirty in such a way whenever he could. 

As a result, he had stationed himself at an abbey in France to stir up trouble among the clergy. Due to a handy clerical error, the buildings had never been properly blessed, and were therefore not holy ground. It had made for a rather comfortable existence for the last four years, and nearly entirely conflict-free. He was fed, he had a roof over his head, and no one expected a _nun_ to join military service. Hell had been rather quiet, more focused on the battles in the Holy Lands, and he hadn’t received any missives in quite a while. For the most part, he was free to do as he pleased. Crowley very much liked doing as he pleased. 

So he spent his days rousing minor rabble (when he wasn’t working in the orphanage), drawing flying dicks and other bizarre imagery into the margins of the bibles the monks copied, and his evenings tempting priest and nun alike. He was living in a female body - and a fairly lush one - which certainly helped with the sort of temptations he was working. Several of the priests had succumbed to lust, and nearly half the nuns had been tempted into sapphic delights, as well. But Crowley figured he’d probably done as much as he should in this place, and the time was nigh for him to move on. Besides, he was getting _bored_ with all the piety. Nothing was more dull than a devout man (or woman). 

Perhaps he should find some royal court to skulk around and create some rivalries. That could be fun. The English were always a delight, but the food was abysmal. Perhaps he’d stay in France…

Crowley was contemplating his next moves (while faking prayer) when there was a commotion in the antechamber. He made a vague but rude gesture to substitute genuflecting, then got to his feet to go see what the fuss was about. 

“Prepare the Brionne Chambers,” the Mother Superior was saying. “And do hurry! He’s almost here!”

“Who’s almost here?” Crowley asked quickly, stepping aside and out of the way of a nun bustling by with an armful of clean linens. 

“The White Knight is coming! He’ll be here within a few hours! It’s an incredible honor to have such a soldier of God in our hallowed walls!”

Crowley’s mind spun. He only knew of one White Knight, and he hadn’t personally seen the angel in nearly two centuries. Last he’d heard, Aziraphale was still puttering around Britain, doing good, _fomenting_ peace. But if Aziraphale was coming _here_...

He smiled. It would be lovely to see his old friend - rather, his hereditary enemy. Two centuries had been too long. Maybe the angel would help break up the monotony. 

“What are you doing, just standing there and smiling?” the Mother Superior snapped. “We have a very important guest coming! Go! Do something to help make him welcome!”

“Yes, Mother Superior,” Crowley said with a deferential bow of the head, then slinked off to make plans.

~*~O~*~

It didn’t even take a miracle to distract the Knight’s squire with a pretty milkmaid, and only the right word in the right ear to be given the assignment of seeing to the Knight’s comfort. He still wasn’t sure it was Aziraphale, but even if it _wasn’t_ , Crowley would rather be in the thick of it instead of doing something absolutely boring, like laundry. Regardless of who he was, the appearance of this White Knight was interesting, and Crowley liked when things were interesting.

He carried the tray with the finest victuals the abbey had to offer and a carafe of wine on it to the chambers the Knight had been given and knocked on the door politely. There was a soft ‘enter’ from the other side, and Crowley pushed the door open. 

The room was fairly dark, lit only by a handful of candles, and although Crowley could see in the dark (by virtue of being a demon), he couldn’t see the Knight. The fire was burning in the grate, and he sensed motion in the chair in front of the hearth. Crowley went inside and put the tray of victuals and wine down on the table that was waiting for it, then turned to face where he believed the Knight to be sitting. 

“Your squire was unable to come and assist you, m’lord, but if you’d like, I can be of service this evening.”

A cottony blonde head rose from the chair and Aziraphale got to his feet, turning towards Crowley with his eyes narrowed. “Crowley? Is that you?”

“So it _is_ you!” Crowley answered, delighted (but trying not to show it). “It’s almost good to see you, Aziraphale.”

The angel was still staring at Crowley with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing in an abbey? And dressed like a _nun_?”

“I’m living here, currently,” Crowley explained, picking up the carafe of wine and goblet and swaggering over to plop down in the chair opposite Aziraphale, sure of his welcome. “Been here for about four years, tempting the locals.”

“But this is an _abbey,_ ” Aziraphale said, sounding confused. “It’s sacred ground.”

Crowley gave a grin. “There was a clerical error and the priest they sent to bless the grounds was one of ours. It’s not actually holy ground, so I can be here all I like. Convenient, eh?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, then sat in his chair. “Foul fiend,” he muttered, and Crowley’s smile grew.

Crowley miracled up a second goblet and poured them each a generous measure of wine from the carafe, handing one goblet to the angel. “So what about you? Still doing the White Knight thing, I see.”

“Yes, for now. I haven’t done it continuously - I lived as a monk for a while, copying books, and have done a couple other things, but resumed my identity as the White Knight about ten years ago. It’s getting harder and harder to avoid going to the Holy Land, though, and I wonder if it’s not time for another identity change. I want nothing to do with that.”

“Me, neither,” Crowley agreed with feeling. “I assume it’s your lot’s doing?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. Upstairs sees it as, well, as a _crusade_ to spread the good word, but I can’t help but think it’s not going to go the way they expect. None of the other crusades have worked out well for the Europeans, why should this one be any different? You and I spent years and years in the Holy Land and know the people well. They’re not going to convert, not even at the point of a sword.”

“No, they won’t. But that’s rarely stopped the humans from trying to do something foolish.”

“Bless them,” Aziraphale said with exasperated fondness. “They’re so clever, yet so misguided sometimes.”

Crowley rather thought the idea of conquering the Holy Land was a touch more than ‘misguided’, but managed to hold his tongue on that particular topic. 

“So, what have you been doing while avoiding the crusades?” he asked instead. 

“The same as usual, really. Doing my best to spread peace and prosperity amongst the population.”

“Sounds fun,” Crowley commented drily. 

“Well, goodness is the only force worth spreading, after all,” the angel replied in a haughty tone. 

Crowley snorted lightly. “Where are you headed next?”

“Back to England, most likely. I’m going to see if I can’t sow the seeds of peace. You?”

Crowley shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t have any current orders from below, beyond the blanket ‘make trouble’ I’ve always got. But life in an abbey has become increasingly boring, and I think I’d like a bit more excitement soon. Even the kids aren’t enough to hold my interest anymore.”

Aziraphale raised a light eyebrow. “Kids?”

“Yes, the abbey houses an orphanage, and I enjoy working with the children,” he confessed, studiously ignoring the angel’s fond look. “I’d actually considered stationing myself in London, too, probably at the court of King John. Perhaps we’ll be working together.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to snort. “We could never be working _together_.”

“Bah,” Crowley said after swallowing a mouthful of wine, leaning forward to fill his goblet again. “We’ve done it before. A quick miracle from me to save you a trip, a minor temptation from you to help me out. And we agreed last time we met to stay out of each other’s way.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we should be _working together_ ,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

“I don’t see why not. You and I are both stuck here on this planet, and for all our considerable powers, we can’t be two places at once. Helping each other only makes sense. And besides, our home offices don’t care as long as the work gets done.”

“I’m not trading jobs with you,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“I’m not suggesting we trade jobs,” Crowley shrugged. “Frankly, I love my job too much for that. I’m sure you feel the same. What I _am_ suggesting is that we be open to the possibility of helping each other out, if the need arises.” The angel looked skeptical, and Crowley decided to let it lie. For now. “More wine?”

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes please.”

The demon smirked and poured from the miraculously-refilled carafe into the angel’s goblet. For the next few hours, the two ancient enemies dined and drank, taking turns to refill the plates and carafe when they ran low, until Crowley found himself full and pleasantly tipsy. Aziraphale was ruddy cheeked, which was always a good indicator that he was inebriated, and Crowley smiled into his wine. 

“So how long have you been looking like a woman?” Aziraphale asked casually, as if it wasn’t at all an unusual question to ask. For them, perhaps, it wasn’t.

“Since I got to this abbey. I didn’t fancy writing all day, so being a monk was right out. The nuns seemed to have more interesting work to do - like with the orphanage - so I made myself into a woman and forged a transfer notice for myself to come live here.”

“Well, it looks good on you,” Aziraphale said in a slightly slurring voice, giving Crowley an assessing, head-to-toe look. He almost laughed at the absurdity - you couldn’t really tell anything about his shape in this habit, and only his face and hands were visible - but he felt his heart jump in his chest, anyway. They hadn’t touched each other since that night in Rome, even though they’d seen each other well over a dozen times in the intervening thousand years. Crowley had decided to himself about eight centuries ago that his gamble to make Aziraphale crave him had failed, and although it stung, he’d mostly accepted it. That night had apparently been a one-off. Crowley had had many of those. 

But Aziraphale hadn’t looked at him like _that_ , well, _ever_ , and it was thrilling. 

“Thank you,” he said, swallowing the odd feeling. “I’ve rather enjoyed it, but I do miss having a cock.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I’d say so.”

“Have you ever done it? Become a woman, that is?”

“Oh, once or twice,” Aziraphale allowed with an easy smile that further indicated his state of intoxication. “Most recently about three hundred years ago. I wanted to see how they lived - women, that is - so I made the effort and posed as a cousin of a wealthy lord. Went to stay with him and his family for a while. It had always seemed like a lovely life, being a refined lady, don’t you think?” Crowley hummed agreement as he took a sip of his wine. Aziraphale went on. “There were aspects that were quite fun, really - I very much enjoyed the social side of things, making tap... “ he stumbled, then recovered, “ _tapestries_ with the other women and the like, and was very comfortable with women’s work. But then I saw firsthand how women are treated as pawns in political games.”

Crowley felt himself stiffen a bit and his hand tightened on his goblet. “What happened?”

“My ‘cousin’ attempted to marry me off to an old man to secure an alliance. Horrid old codger. Smelled like cabbage and spite.” He took a drink of his wine and continued. “I begged and pleaded to be left alone, but he insisted that I go through with it. So the night before the wedding, I made the effort to return to my male form, posed as a servant, and got the hell out of there.”

The angel must really be soused, if he was swearing. But that thought barely registered with Crowley. He was seething. “The bastard,” Crowley muttered. 

Aziraphale shrugged. “It was time, anyway. The fli… flir… _attentions_ of young knights were flattering, but some of them were a bit… eager. A couple of them - get this, Crowley,” he said, leaning forward unsteadily, as if about to impart a great joke, propping himself on his knee. “A couple of them attempted to corner me and take my chastity. Me! I was forced to perform minor miracles to get myself out of those situations. Heaven only knows why those young men thought they could take such liberties, and I worry for other young ladies who don’t have the benefit of cel… of cele… of _heavenly_ powers to help save them. Without the ability to perform a miracle, I’d have been molested, for sure.”

A bubbling anger rose in Crowley’s chest. If he ever got his hands on those men who’d attempted to force their attentions on his angel they’d be sorry. But he did his best to swallow it down - as well as the fact that he’d referred to Aziraphale as ‘his’ within his own mind. Where the hell had _that_ come from? Nevermind. Not important.

“I’d love to find them and kill them,” he swore, the alcohol loosening his tongue. 

“There’s no need for violence, Crowley,” Aziraphale tutted, but sounded pleased. 

Crowley thought for a second. “I’ll bet you’re exceptionally lovely as a woman,” he found himself saying, independent of his own will. 

The angel flushed prettily. “How you do go on, dear,” he said, then took another sip of his wine. Crowley didn’t miss the endearment. _Dear_. He’d never called him dear before, not in five thousand years. _Dear._ From anyone else, it might have been grating, but from Aziraphale, he rather liked it - and hoped to hear it again. 

“After that, I decided I’d be best served to stick to a masculine body, at least for now. Perhaps, at some point in the future, women won’t be treated as objects and I’ll try being feminine again. I did so love the clothes.”

Crowley chuckled. “I wouldn’t know much about the clothing,” he said, pulling at his shapeless outfit, “being forced to wear this habit all day every day. Perhaps I should keep this body and do as you did - seek out some rich lord and pose as his sister or cousin. Could be fun.”

Aziraphale’s brows knitted with concern. “But dear, then you would be at the mercy of men who might try to take advantage of you!”

Crowley laughed. “Perhaps I would _want_ to be taken advantage of. It’s one of humanity’s better pleasures, after all, sex is.” Aziraphale flushed a little, and Crowley smirked. “But I’m not terribly concerned about it. If someone I’m not interested in attempts to put his hands on me, I’ll just do what you did and use a miracle to get away. But I doubt that will happen at all. I’m no raving beauty.”

“I think you’re quite beautiful,” Aziraphale remarked, his eyes earnest. “Especially your eyes.”

There was that fluttering feeling in his chest again, and he stared openly at Aziraphale. The angel must be _really_ drunk, to say something like that. But regardless of the reason, Crowley was _thrilled_ for reasons he couldn’t say. Perhaps he’d been wrong, and Aziraphale _did_ want him, after all. 

And if that were true, this night would get even _more_ interesting…

“Remember Rome?” Aziraphale asked suddenly, surprising Crowley more than a little. Had the angel read his thoughts? No, that wasn’t possible.

“Well, there’s a lot to remember.”

“You know what I’m talking about, dear. Don’t be coy.”

Crowley did know, and he remembered every second. He’d spent centuries wondering if he’d done the right thing, but Aziraphale had never spoken of that night again. This was the first time in a millennium he’d mentioned it.

“I do.”

“Do you ever think of repeating that night?”

“Well, Rome has fallen, and orgies are much less common now…”

Aziraphale pursed his lips and Crowley bit back a grin. The angel was _interested_ and that was so, so good. Perhaps he’d have the good fortune to be fucked tonight. 

“I do, yeah,” he admitted. “I certainly wouldn’t mind a repeat. How about you?”

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale said coquettishly, giving Crowley another once over.

“More wine?” he offered, leaning forward to reach for the carafe. Aziraphale reached forward at the same moment and their hands brushed. Such a simple touch, but Crowley felt a jolt rush all through him - a feeling he hadn’t had since the last time he and Aziraphale had touched, that night in Rome. He’d almost forgotten what the angel’s touch did to him. Perhaps it would have been better if he had. But now, with their fingers against each other, Crowley felt the memories come rushing back in, vivid in each detail, and a tingling radiated from the point where they had touched, spreading across his whole body, settling especially at his nipples and between his thighs. Their eyes were locked on one another, yellow irises meeting blue, and Crowley’s heart stopped for a moment. He felt a surge of desire so fierce, it nearly overtook him and he had to swallow a groan. 

Aziraphale was the first to look away, his jaw clenched, breaking the immediate spell. But Crowley still felt the heat of desire radiating through him. He _wanted_ the angel. Badly. And he wondered whether he could tempt Aziraphale into sex tonight. 

Flustered with himself, he stood and went to the window to look out upon the darkened grounds, just for something to do. “When do you take your leave?” he asked, hoping to sound casual. 

“We’d only planned on stopping one night, to rest the horses, but…” 

Crowley turned to look at him when he paused, and Aziraphale traced the rim of his goblet, eyes not meeting Crowley’s. 

“But?”

“If the hospitality is especially good, I daresay we could be convinced to linger a day or two.”

Crowley gave his most seductive smile, the one that never failed him. He’d never used it on Aziraphale before, but now seemed like an opportune time. “I’m sure you’ll find the hospitality to be to your liking. I’ll see to that myself.”

Aziraphale gave him another head-to-toe, lingering look, and Crowley recognized the way his eyes fairly gleamed, the tightness around his mouth. He’d inspired it enough times to be able to spot it easily. It was _lust_.

“And just how do you intend to show me hospitality?”

Crowley smirked and indicated the tray he’d brought. “Are food and wine not enough?”

“Food and wine are the barest requirements when one has a guest. What else?”

“Well, as I told you, your squire is… otherwise engaged.”

“Your doing, I suppose.”

“No, actually, it was his own doing.”

“I’ll have to have a word with the boy. But what does that have to do with my hospitality?”

“Well,” Crowley started, still smiling seductively and giving Aziraphale his own up-and-down look, “perhaps I could perform his duties and disrobe you? You certainly can’t sleep in your tunic and surcoat.”

“Acts of service aren’t very demonic, my dear,” he answered, his eyes like sparkling blue flames. “Would you willingly service me?”

It sprung to Crowley’s lips to say, _I’d do anything for you_ , but he bit it back just in time. He needed to stop drinking and sober up before he made an absolute fool of himself. 

Instead, he gave a cocky smile. “For a chance to put my hands on the White Knight? Yeah, angel. I’ll service you.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a minute, and Crowley could practically _see_ the duty warring with want on his face. After a few moments, he gave a short nod. “Alright, then. I’ll let you assist me.”

Crowley felt a tingle shoot all through his body, from his head to his toes. This was it. He was going to get to touch the angel again, after a thousand years of wanting. _Satan, please, don’t let me fuck this up._

Doing his best to seem cool and unaffected, Crowley crossed the room to stand in front of the angel. His mind was racing as he reached out to unbuckle the belt slung low on Aziraphale’s waist. He kept casting coy looks up at the angel, teasing, using all his various powers of seduction as best he could. He’d never wanted _anything_ as much as he wanted Aziraphale; he had waited more than a dozen lifetimes for this moment, for this opportunity to come around again. Anticipation was buzzing inside him, making him giddier than the alcohol ever could. He was determined to have what he wanted tonight - and he wanted his angel. 

The belt clattered to the ground, and Crowley set to work unbuttoning the row of buttons on his surcoat, feeling Aziraphale’s eyes on him like a physical caress. The principality did nothing to help, and Crowley could see his hands clenching into fists by his sides. That was alright. He was perfectly willing to do all the work. 

When the surcoat opened, he pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and revealing the white satin tunic underneath.

Aziraphale’s voice was quiet and rather strained when he spoke. “I spent the last thousand years thinking you an expert at seduction who had used his best moves on me that night in Rome. But now I see that it was only part of a vast repertoire of seduction.”

“Is it working?” Crowley asked, arch.

Aziraphale just hummed, but that was answer enough for Crowley. He smiled and ran his hands down Aziraphale’s chest, the skin of his hands sliding against the rich satin, very much appreciating the body he felt underneath. The angel was a little soft, yes, and unassuming looking. But that softness hid a power unlike anything else on this Earth - power that was now trembling beneath his touch. Crowley was reminded that this was the one being on Earth that could actually destroy him. The thought was exhilarating. 

He slid his hands down until he was below Aziraphale’s waist, fingertips seeking out his cock. It was hard when he found it, ramrod straight, and Crowley stroked it lightly, looking up from beneath his lashes at Aziraphale, trying to come up with something clever to say. 

The next thing he knew, Aziraphale had his hand cradling Crowley’s head, kissing him hard. The demon was utterly stunned - he’d thought surely he’d have to apply more persuasion to get Aziraphale to drop his tightly-held restraint, but apparently, the wine and conversation had worked sufficiently. He melted into the kiss, fisting his hands in Aziraphale’s pristine tunic and holding him close. The angel tasted exactly as Crowley remembered, like sweetness and wine and all good things, and he sent his tongue out, seeking more of that taste. 

Aziraphale pinned Crowley to the wall with his hips, kissing him in a way that was almost feral. It was all the more exhilarating to be a little helpless, and Crowley reveled in it. 

The angel broke the kiss and pulled at the covering on Crowley’s head, tugging it free and tossing it aside. Red hair tumbled out from underneath it, and Aziraphale watched it fall. Then he nosed the hair to the side and attacked Crowley’s neck. Crowley moaned raggedly, more turned on than he’d been in _centuries_ , since the last time he’d felt Aziraphale’s hot mouth on his. He’d had other sexual partners in that time - plenty of them. But none of them had inspired the scorching heat between his legs, nor the wetness that was beginning to drip onto his thighs. Idly, he wondered what the angel would make of his cunt. The hand groping Crowley’s breast reassured him and led him to believe that Aziraphale wouldn’t balk at his human form. The hard ridge of his erection pressing against Crowley’s thigh was further reassurance. 

He continued to cup and stroke Aziraphale’s cock, smirking to himself when he rolled his hips forward into Crowley’s hand. _Excellent._ That meant the angel was nearly as turned on as he was. Tonight, he felt sure, would be explosive. An evening to make good on a thousand years of frustrated desires.

Crowley leered a little, which Aziraphale promptly kissed away. He felt nearly helpless under the plunge and swipe of Aziraphale’s tongue, the hot slide of his lips. The angel was making him _hot_ , and he worried a little about combusting before they could actually fuck. 

After some maneuvering, he finally managed to free Aziraphale’s cock, wrapping his hand around it and pumping. Aziraphale broke the kiss and lay his head on Crowley’s shoulder, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” he muttered, and Crowley grinned. Then an idea sparked. 

“Say, angel, you’re a pious man…”

Aziraphale didn’t lift his head from Crowley’s shoulder, but he protested: “You want to discuss piety _now_?”

Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Not really, I’m just remarking in order to make an observation of something you may like.”

The angel continued to fuck into his hand. “I cannot fathom what you’re banging on about, and frankly, I don’t care. Just don’t stop, dear.”

Crowley pressed kisses down his neck, still using his hand to pump him steadily. “I won’t stop, but I just thought - as a pious man, aren’t you stirred by the sight of a woman on her knees?”

Aziraphale barely had time to get out a single, confused syllable - ‘wha?’ - before Crowley had dropped to his knees before him, taking in the sight of the most perfect cock ever manifested. He pumped it for just a moment longer while Aziraphale pitched forward and propped himself against the wall with one hand, the other coming to rest in Crowley’s hair. Crowley looked up at him, noting the angel’s half-lidded eyes, and maintained eye contact while he leaned forward and took the thick cock into his mouth. 

A broken, ragged sound came from above him, and Crowley closed his eyes, taking the cock to the root. Oh, he’d missed this, he’d _craved_ this for centuries, and no substitute had even come close. Aziraphale’s hand tightened in his hair and, _fuck_ , he _loved_ that. He braced himself on Azriaphale’s hips and started bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks with every stroke. Aziraphale cursed and moaned, and very gradually started thrusting his hips into Crowley’s mouth. Crowley had to admit, he found the idea of being used, of being submissive, to be _very_ arousing. He rubbed his wet thighs together to produce a little friction, then gently used his hands on Aziraphale’s hips to encourage him to fuck his mouth. 

It took a little coaxing, but after a couple of minutes, Aziraphale was thrusting in earnest, his fists in Crowley’s hair. Crowley reveled in the loss of control, opening his throat and doing his best to be a passive recepticle for Aziraphale’s fucking.

It wasn’t long before Aziraphale was close, and Crowley was eager for the angel to orgasm. He worked harder to bring him off, craving the taste of his come. 

“Fuck… fuck… here I… _fuck_!” Aziraphale swore, and the fists tightened further until Crowley nearly cried out. His mouth flooded with the salty-sweet (heavenly) essence of Aziraphale’s come, and he swallowed every drop, sucking vigorously to get every last bit. 

Gradually, he slowed his ministrations until he was worshipfully licking and cleaning the half-hard cock while the angel himself caught his breath above him. Finally, Crowley clambered to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. 

“So how do you feel about having a nun on her knees, hmm?”

Aziraphale attacked his mouth, kissing him urgently, once again pressing him against the wall. Crowley clutched his shoulders, unbelievably aroused and nearly desperate to fuck him, to feel his big cock filling him up. 

The habit was pulled to the side, ripped slightly, to reveal his shoulders - bare skin which Aziraphale immediately pounced upon. “Devious fiend,” he muttered between kisses. “You wicked, despicable creature.”

Crowley preened as if the words had been praise - and to a demon, they were. He clutched at Aziraphale’s tunic, rolling his hips forward, grinding his cunt against the angels half-hard cock. He was tempted to beg - something he’d _never_ done before - and on the verge of doing so when Aziraphale stepped back, leaving Crowley a gasping mess, slumped against the wall. 

“Get on the bed,” he demanded, panting. “I simply _must_ have you.”

Crowley hastened to obey, snapping his fingers on the way to rid himself of the clothing. He didn’t look back until he was on the bed, reclining, propped up so he could see. 

Aziraphale had apparently used a miracle himself, because he stood a few feet away - gloriously naked and aroused again. Crowley fought the urge to mewl when the angel started across the room, his hands clenching by his sides. 

“What’s this?” Aziraphale asked as he crawled on the bed slowly, taking Crowley’s legs and opening them, baring his wet cunt. “I felt the breasts - very nice, by the way, dear - but I didn’t think you’d go all the way with your effort.”

“Does it please you?” Crowley asked, suddenly very eager for the answer. 

Aziraphale didn’t answer directly. “You drive me mad with lust, you wicked creature,” he remarked, slowly taking a place between Crowley’s parted thighs. “I’ve been dreaming of having you since that night in Rome - every time I took myself in hand, I thought of that night, what could have happened, what _should_ have happened, and how you left me there. I’m _never_ aggressive, not in any way, and I pride myself on being a moderate, temperate being. But you, my dear…” Crowley bit his lip under the endearment, which sounded utterly sinful at the moment. “I find I want to fuck you through the mattress.”

“What’s stopping you?” Crowley challenged, his nipples tight knots and his cunt _throbbing_ with want. He wanted to be filled and fucked into oblivion - _now_.

Aziraphale fell on him, his mouth covering Crowley’s and his hand going between the demon’s legs. Thick fingers circled his sopping entrance, then he felt a finger slide into him. He whimpered when Aziraphale fucked him with one finger for a moment, then whined when he added another finger. His thumb sought out Crowley’s clit and began stroking expertly, sending a pulse of sensation ricocheting through his body. Aziraphale tore his mouth away from Crowley’s and started trailing his lips, teeth, and tongue down his neck and chest, until he captured one of Crowley’s nipples between his teeth and suckled hard. Crowley _keened_ , his back arching, making sounds that bore no relation to language. 

The angel’s fingers fucked him harder, his thumb flicking and massaging his clit, and Crowley climbed higher and higher with every second. He was on the precipice… so close… 

“Come for me, dear. Come, please…”

With a shout, he exploded, every cell in his body awash in pleasure like he hadn’t known in hundreds upon hundreds of years. It had never been like this, not with anyone else, and he was fairly drowning in ecstasy. 

He started to come down, floating back to earth like a feather, and was jolted back into a blurry reality when Aziraphale’s weight left his body. He was confused for a moment and started to demand he come back, but before he could, Aziraphale covered his cunt with his mouth, still pumping and curling his fingers, and Crowley howled. His hips rocked up of their own accord, seeking more, and he threaded his hands through Aziraphale’s cottony hair, hanging on for dear life. 

Aziraphale didn’t move except to continually fuck Crowley with his fingers and eat of him feverishly. Crowley was even closer to begging now, and likely would have thrown his pride out of the window and _pleaded_ for the angel to never stop, except he didn’t seem able to form words. 

“Azir- angel- _fuck_ ,” he managed, then lost the ability to do anything but scream as he flew apart again. He’d never come so hard before, not in five millenia, and at the height of his pleasure, he simply blacked out. 

When he came back to his senses, he was alone on the bed, shaking and panting, boneless. He glanced around for Aziraphale and spotted him beside the bed, using a cloth to clean the shine off the bottom half of his face. Except for his turgid cock, curling upwards towards his abdomen, he looked completely relaxed. Crowley watched him for a moment, still catching his breath, then propped himself up on his elbows. 

“Where the _hell_ did you learn that?” he demanded, knowing he sounded jealous - and beyond caring.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Did you not like it, dear?”

Crowley didn’t have a good answer to that and stammered. The angel grinned, then sat the cloth down and turned partially away. “I’m afraid I should apologize. I quite forgot myself and became a little... assertive with you. I hope you didn’t mind.”

“ _Mind_?” Crowley demanded, then blurted, “Angel, that was the hottest thing that has _ever_ happened to me.”

“Good to know,” Aziraphale said casually, with a smile. “I’m so pleased you liked it.”

He’d _loved_ it, and was just about to say so - damn his pride - when Azriaphale snapped and all his clothes reappeared on his person, perfectly in order. Crowley just gaped. 

“I thought you wanted to fuck me into the mattress?”

“I do, very much, dear. But I’ve decided a little turnabout is fair play. You see, you left me satisfied but wanting more back in Rome, hoping that would make me want you. I’ve decided it’s your turn to see how that feels.”

Crowley was flabbergasted. To have his own tactic turned against him!

“You _bastard_ ,” Crowley gasped, shocked and, despite himself, a little impressed. 

“Now, now, there’s no need for that sort of language.”

“You don’t mind my language when we’re fucking. You even swear rather impressively, yourself.”

“True, but that’s in the heat of passion. It’s a bit different now.”

Crowley still felt very much in the heat of passion, and didn’t really see the difference, anyway, but didn’t bother with semantics. Instead, he asked, “Are you really going to leave me like this? Wet and aching?”

Aziraphale gave him a look. “Now, really, dear. I just gave you quite a thorough seeing-to --”

“You didn’t _fuck_ me!” he cried indignantly. 

“Next time,” Aziraphale replied with an airy wave. 

Crowley just stared. “You really _are_ a bastard.”

A white-blond eyebrow cocked. “Are you accusing me of leaving you unsatisfied, dear?”

He started to say ‘yes’, to _demand_ to be fucked, but in truth, he’d just had the two best orgasms of his life, back to back. Still, he was greedy and wanted more. He wanted it all. But he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t be willing to give it. Not right now. 

Grumbling, he got to his feet. He snapped irritably, redressing, then crossed the room to get his head covering, snatching it up bitterly. 

“Come now, dear. It’s not as bad as all that. I’ll be here for a few days. Perhaps you can, er, see to my comfort again?”

“I’d rather discorporate than do this again,” Crowley lied through his teeth. 

Aziraphale seemed to spot that for the falsehood it was. “Well, if you insist…”

Crowley stormed over to the door, snatching it open. “Will I see you again anyway?” the angel asked, stopping him, sounding strangely hopeful. 

“I’ll be sending someone else to see to your comfort, you bastard, but yes. I daresay that given the nature of our lives, we’ll see each other again.” 

“I do hope so, dear,” Aziraphale said serenely, leaving Crowley’s blood to boil. “Very soon.”

“Until next time, _angel_ ,” he bit out. 

“Until next time, dear,” the angel replied mildly. 

Crowley left the room without another word or even a glance, fuming, and left the Abbey a few hours later to go find himself a royal court to cause havoc in - and forget about the bloody angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by the amazing ohstars! 


	3. London, 1603ad

Crowley smirked at the man across from him at the small table. His cards were good, but not a winning hand, and Crowley knew it. Perfect. He’d tempted this man - with a name he couldn’t remember - into a friendly game of cards, just for fun. A quick temptation to pass the time. The man had turned out to be fairly interesting, though, as humans went, and Crowley was actually having a bit of fun. 

“Are you in?” he asked.

The other man - John? James? - studied his cards carefully. Crowley’s smirk grew.

“Be careful with him, dear,” Crowley heard from over his shoulder. “He’s a wily old serpent.”

Crowley spun in his chair to see Aziraphale standing a few feet away, smiling beatifically. He was wearing posh, spotless traveling clothes of the gentry, all in light shades. This pub was in a fairly posh neighborhood - Crowley’s, to be exact - but Aziraphale still stuck out like a sore thumb. Nevertheless, it felt like Crowley’s heart grew in his chest, and he couldn’t suppress a real, genuine smile at the sight of the angel - although he did stop himself from standing up and hugging his friend. 

“Back from Edinburgh?” he asked dryly, propping his arm along the back of the chair and grinning sardonically. 

“It would appear so, yes.”

“About damned time. Only took you what, two years? Three?” Crowley knew exactly how long it had been - two years, seven months, and eleven days - but he wasn’t about to let _that_ information slip. 

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said dismissively with a wave of the hand. “May I sit?”

“Absolutely.” Crowley turned to his card partner - Thomas? Luke? Something biblical - and lay down his cards. “Game’s over. Thanks for playing.”

The man sputtered. “But I’ve lost nearly five pounds to you! I demand you let me win it back!”

Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically and reached into his leather drawstring purse, withdrawing a fat gold coin. “Here. This is more than you lost. Now go away.”

The other man took the coin, wide-eyed, and got to his feet, stammering, leaving the table in a hurry as if wanting to go before Crowley changed his mind. Crowley just watched him with a bored expression, then Aziraphale filled his vision as he took the now-empty seat. 

“Really, dear, you should be more careful.”

“Why?”

“Carrying around that much wealth - you’re likely to be robbed.”

Crowley chuckled. “I’m not concerned. If I want to frighten off any would-be thieves, all I need to do is show them my eyes. That will send them running.”

“But you have lovely eyes,” Aziraphale argued, slipping off his cloak. 

“Not very human, though, are they?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Crowley raised a hand to beckon the barmaid, a pretty young thing he’d been entertaining the notion of fucking until Aziraphale had showed up. Sex with a human was the furthest thing from his mind now, though. Not now that his angel was here. 

“Yes, Mr. Crowley?” she asked, approaching the table with a smile and fluttering lashes. 

“Pints for me and my friend here, and keep them coming. I expect we’re going to be consuming quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol tonight.”

She scurried away to get the pints and Aziraphale tutted. “One of your conquests, I take it?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, angel?”

“Certainly not,” he huffed, and Crowley grinned. 

“So tell me about Edinburgh? What took you nearly three years?”

“Oh, it was nothing, really. They founded a new university up there, and I hung around for a bit.”

“Oh? Study anything interesting?”

“It’s all interesting, you should know that.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I’ll never understand your aversion to books and learning.”

“I don’t have an aversion. I just don’t worship them, like you do. Honestly, it’s a wonder the Almighty doesn’t find herself unspeakably jealous,” he teased. 

The angel ignored him. “You seem almost repulsed by the very idea of reading a book.”

Crowley waved a hand dismissively. “Leave the reading to the scholars. What need do I have to _read_?”

“The same as I do, I’d venture, which is to say no need at all. But don’t you just love the feeling of having learned something new?”

“Bah. I learn plenty from dealing with people. In fact…” He leaned closer and pointed to a man across the pub. “That man is significantly in debt. He’s been spending all his money here, in the pub, and his wife is none too pleased. That man,” Crowley went on, indicating someone else, “has designs on opening up a shop and becoming a merchant. That barmaid over there,” he pointed to a woman on a man’s lap and Aziraphale followed his finger, “has a beautiful singing voice. She could perform for the King, she’s so good. But she’s here, tending to these drunken slobs.”

Aziraphale turned back to Crowley. “And what good is _that_ knowledge?”

“I’d say that my knowledge is much more useful in the short term, since it helps me work. What good is reading about ancient Greece to you, angel? We were _there_.”

“Yes, we were, which is part of what makes it so interesting. I find it quite fun to find all the errors and whatnot. For example, did you know that historians like to claim that Plato was a great athlete? A wrestler, in fact.”

“Not that hack!” Crowley laughed, and Aziraphale giggled. “He couldn’t wrestle his way out of a wet sack. And all his best ideas about morality came from me and you.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t point that out to the historians in Edinburgh,” Aziraphale said with a cheeky smile that made Crowley’s heart flutter pleasantly.

“No, I would imagine you didn’t.”

The barmaid returned with their drinks and made eyes at Aziraphale. The angel didn’t seem to notice, but Crowley did and scowled. In retaliation, he caused a minor fight to break out nearby to capture her attention. Once the two (very confused) parties were settled down and the barmaid was gone, Crowley picked up his ale as if nothing had happened. 

“So how long have you been back in town?” Crowley asked, taking a long sip. 

“Only just arrived.”

He felt suddenly lighter at the thought that the angel hadn’t tarried before he came to see him, but didn’t let on beyond a quirk of his lip. “Came to see me right away, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Aziraphale scoffed, but looked away. Crowley’s smirk grew. “I only thought I should come by and tell you that I performed your silly temptation.”

“Yes, I received your letter.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did.”

“But you never wrote back!” Aziraphale squawked.

Crowley shrugged, hoping to seem unconcerned, not wanting to tell that he’d refrained from sending a letter on the hopes that this exact thing would happen, that the angel would come find him. He’d almost given up hope…

He just shrugged in answer, not wanting to lie.

Aziraphale huffed, but took another drink. Crowley was glad when he didn’t argue. He didn’t have a defense. 

“You know,” Crowley started, deciding to take the conversation in a new direction. “You should open a bookshop.”

“Oh, do be serious, dear.”

“I’m being entirely serious. You should open a little shop and collect your books there.”

“Then I’d have to sell them.”

“Not necessarily. You could simply refuse to sell if you didn’t want to, and hoard your precious tomes like a dragon.”

“How you do run on.”

“No, really, angel,” he said, liking this idea more and more. “You could have your own personal library. All the books you could imagine, yours to collect. All in one location.” And wherever that location was, Crowley would visit often.

Aziraphale seemed to be considering it. “I suppose that would mean I’d have to put down roots here in London…”

 _Satan_ , Crowley hoped so. 

“Why not? I have.”

Aziraphale gave him a questioning look. “You’re settled in London?”

“As settled as I’ll ever be,” Crowley shrugged. “Got myself some rooms. Not far from here, actually.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I should familiarize myself.”

“I’d be happy to show you around…” Crowley offered. 

“Maybe later,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “Tell me about Hamlet?”

“It’s been a surprise hit,” Crowley reported, raising his ale in a salute. “Certainly his most popular play to date.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, his eyes warm and twinkling and _fuck_ Crowley wanted to offer to do anything as long as the angel looked at him like that over and over again. 

The thought sent a jolt all through him, despite the fact he’d had it before. 

He took a large swallow of his ale, draining the mug, then refilled it with a minor miracle. He was going to need all the alcohol he could get, if the thought he’d just almost let himself have were true. 

But why wouldn’t it be? Aziraphale was his oldest friend, the only person Crowley had ever truly given a damn about. They’d known each other for thousands upon thousands of years. Didn’t it make sense for the warm affection he’d had for the angel since Eden to grow?

He shouldn’t think like that. It was dangerous and stupid. Having _those_ feelings towards an angel could not possibly end well. Aziraphale may very well smite him - and he’d be well within his rights to do so. Maybe that would knock some sense into Crowley. All of hell knew he deserved it, and maybe it would rid him of these pesky fucking _feelings_.

Except he knew it wouldn’t. The thoughts and feelings he was having now were not new, and had, in fact, grown exponentially every time he’d seen the angel over the last few centuries. He’d felt this way about Aziraphale for ages - centuries, possibly millenia. But now, tonight, in this pub in London, he finally realized what those feelings were. 

Bloody hell, he was _fucked_.

But what should he do? How should he deal with this? He’d spent the last four centuries tempting as many people as he could, showing a clear preference for men and women who were blonde. He’d denied to himself _why_ he’d preferred blondes, but now, looking at the angelic blond in front of him, it was impossible to deny. And if he was honest with himself (which he tried very hard not to be), he’d spent a great deal of the time he’d been fucking those nameless people picturing his angel’s face, imagining him in their place. 

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked, concern etched on his face. 

“Fine! I’m fine. Just fine.”

“You seemed lost in thought for a moment there.”

_I was thinking about how fucked I am._

Scrambling, Crowley opened his mouth - and another truth rolled out. “I was wondering how much ale it would take to get you to come back to my place.”

“Back to your place for what?”

He hadn’t expected to say that, but now that it was out there, Crowley decided to roll with it. He gave him a look, and Aziraphale’s face cleared, his eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You want to --”

“I do.”

“And you’re…”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale seemed to be considering it, then he said, “I suppose we’ll just have to see how much ale it takes, then.”

Crowley nearly discorporated on the spot. Bloody hell, he hadn’t actually expected that to _work_. But it seemed it had, and now he’d be spending the night with his angel. Halle-fucking-lujah.

He refilled Aziraphale’s mug. “Better drink up, then,” he teased.

Aziraphale lifted the mug to his lips with twinkling eyes and took a drink.

~*~O~*~

Four hours later, he was staggering drunkenly down the street with Aziraphale, their arms linked, both of them singing an old Roman drinking song they remembered from centuries gone by. Aziraphale had a lovely singing voice - all angels did - but he was currently warbling off-key, slurring the lyrics.

Crowley laughed. “That’s not how it goes, angel!”

“Well how does it -” He hiccupped, then finished. “How does it go?”

Crowley sang the lyrics he remembered, and it was Aziraphale’s turn to laugh. 

“I don’t remember the lyr- the lyr- the _words_ being so risque.”

“It was _Rome_ , Aziraphale. _Everything_ was risque.”

“Fair point.”

“Remember how every party turned into an orgy?”

“Only too -” he hiccuped again. “Only too well.”

Crowley smiled at him, drunk and besotted, and thought Aziraphale to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His hair glowed in the lamplight like a fucking halo, and Crowley lo--

“Hey! Pipe down out there!” came a voice shouting from one of the nearby buildings.

“Ah, fuck your mother!” Crowley shouted back. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, sounding scandalized - but smiling.

Crowley smiled back, unrepentantly. “What?”

“That’s a terribly vulgar thing to say.”

“Demon, remember?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to be so rude.”

Crowley just grinned. 

They arrived at Crowley’s building still arm in arm, their steps unsteady. Crowley found himself nervous as he climbed the stairs to his rooms, Aziraphale behind him. But his nerves were nothing compared to his excitement. He couldn’t wait to get his hands, mouth, and other interested body parts on his angel. 

He’d barely opened the door to his rooms when Aziraphale pushed him inside, crowding him up against the wall, and kissing him soundly. Crowley didn’t waste any time before he was kissing the angel back, his tongue exploring the recesses of Aziraphale’s sweet-tasting mouth. He used a miracle to shut the door and lock it, then let his hands wander all over Aziraphale.

“I thought we’d never make it back here,” Aziraphale murmured between kisses while Crowley’s hands worked on his clothing. “I wanted to drag you into every alley we passed on the way here and fuck you.”

Crowley shivered. “You can fuck me here. You can fuck me anywhere. As long as you promise to _fuck me_.”

“I’m going to,” Aziraphale vowed. 

Crowley stopped kissing him long enough to raise his head and look into his eyes. “You’re not going to leave this time, right? You’re going to stay here, with me, until we’re both satisfied?”

Aziraphale’s eyes were blazing. “I promise, Crowley. I’ll stay until we’re both satisfied.”

Crowley would _never_ be satisfied, it would _never_ be enough, but he didn’t dare say that, even as drunk as he was. Instead, he attacked his mouth, his tongue laying claim to Aziraphale’s, his hands working to get the angel naked as soon as fucking possible. Every bit of discarded cloth was a victory, and every inch of skin that got bared was kissed, licked, or sucked. He removed his hands from Aziraphale only long enough for the angel to shove his jacket off, then they were back to their very important job of removing Aziraphale’s fussy clothing. He was thrilled that Aziraphale seemed as determined to make him naked as he was to make Aziraphale naked, but despaired for a moment when the angel stopped undressing him. 

“What are we doing?” the angel asked, looking annoyed. 

Fear, stark and dreadful, shot through Crowley. He silently begged the universe for Aziraphale not to be calling a halt to what they were doing. But all his mouth could manage was a terribly eloquent, “What?”

Aziraphale smirked and raised one hand, snapping his fingers in a downward motion. Instantly, all of his clothes were gone, as were Crowley’s.

“Seemed silly to do it the human way when we don’t have to,” Aziraphale remarked, still smirking. 

Crowley could have collapsed with relief, but did his best to maintain his cool exterior. “Yes, you’re exactly right. Terribly silly.”

The angel’s eyes raked him from head to toe, taking in every inch of his body. “Back to the masculine, I see.”

“So are you,” Crowley rejoined, returning the favor and letting his eyes devour Aziraphale, lingering on his thick, hard cock. He ached to touch, and his hand twitched beside him. 

“Do you like what you see?”

Crowley decided to be honest in this moment. “I do. Very much.”

Aziraphale was still smirking. “Plan to do anything about it?”

He stepped forward and reached out, grabbing the angel’s cock, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He started pumping slowly, his eyes flicking up to Aziraphale’s to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundary, but Aziraphale had closed his eyes to the sensation. Encouraged, Crowley kept pumping him. 

“I’ve waited hundreds of years to feel you do this to me again…”

Crowley was thrilled. “I’ve waited hundreds of years to do it again - and that’s not all I want to do.”

Aziraphale looked at him again, one eyebrow arched. “Oh? What else do you want from me, foul fiend?”

 _Everything_ , Crowley wanted to say. He wanted _everything_ from Aziraphale. 

But he didn’t dare reveal himself that way. Instead, he said, “I’m a greedy, selfish bastard, angel. I want everything you’re willing to give.”

“Good thing for you, I’m feeling rather generous, then, isn’t it?”

Crowley felt weak.

“To the bed?”

“To the bed,” Crowley agreed, and released Aziraphale’s cock to make their way into the bedroom. He miracled some candles and lamps lit when they got there - he _really_ wanted to see this - then turned when he reached the bed. He was surprised when Aziraphale grabbed him and kissed him firmly, but simply opened his mouth and arms to the angel. They kissed and groped for long minutes until Crowley gently pulled Aziraphale down onto the bed beside him. 

At once, they were rolling all over, hands exploring, mouths never parting. Crowley whimpered when Aziraphale reached for his cock, a little bit of miracled oil in his hand, stroking him. He thrust into the angel’s fist, chasing an orgasm that already seemed close, still kissing Aziraphale passionately. He cried out when he felt himself getting close, putting his hand over Aziraphale’s in a bid to stop him. 

“I’m not stopping,” Aziraphale panted against Crowley’s open mouth. “We both know you can go all night, and that’s what I want. Come, Crowley. Come for me.”

Crowley released, his orgasm hitting him with the force of a cannonball to the chest, his vision whiting out and his head thrown back, a cry on his lips. He continued to buck his hips into Aziraphale’s hand, helpless to stop it, until he was too sensitive to continue. He pulled himself out of Aziraphale’s grasp then, lying on the bed facing him, aftershocks ricocheting through his body. 

When he regained his senses, he opened his eyes to see Aziraphale licking his hand, sucking the come off his fingers with a smile on his face that Crowley would have called ‘devilish’ on anyone else. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the taste, licking his fingers as if they were a particularly scrumptious treat, and Crowley nearly came again when he moaned. 

“Jesus, angel.”

“Yes?”

Crowley didn’t answer with words, he simply dove for Aziraphale’s turgid cock, rolling him over on his back and bending over him, sucking and slurping, devouring the angel’s effort. 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale purred. “I have missed this…”

Crowley bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks with every upward stroke, his tongue rolling all over Aziraphale’s cock. The angel tasted better than he remembered, and Crowley was greedy for it. 

“I won’t last long like this, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said almost conversationally. “You’re just too good, Crowley.”

Crowley moaned around him.

“You like that, demon? Do you like when I call you good?”

Crowley didn’t know _how_ he felt about it, other than the fact that it made him want _more._ More taste, more touch, more everything.

He felt fingers tangle in his long hair and could have purred from the sensation. “If you like it, dear, I’ll make more of a habit of it. I do - oh - I do so want to please you, and you really _are_ so good, after all…”

Crowley felt the thing inside him that he refused to name grow larger. Viciously, he pushed it back down and concentrated on bringing the angel pleasure. 

“Do me a favor, Crowley… go up on your knees and turn your body a bit, so that delcious arse is nearer to me.”

He didn’t hesitate to obey the request, raising his arse in the air and turning it more towards Aziraphale. 

“That’s it,” the angel cooed, one hand fisted in Crowley’s ginger hair and the other gently stroking his bum. “That’s perfect. You’re so good to me.”

Crowley sucked diligently, desperate for the taste of Aziraphale’s spend in his mouth.

“I think I’ve - oh yes, that’s it, right there - I think I’ve come to a decision, Crowley. Would you like to hear it?”

Crowley made an affirmative sound around the huge cock in his mouth, still sucking as hard and fast as he could. 

“I think I’d like to fuck you,” Aziraphale said simply, and Crowley felt one slick, thick finger circling his entrance. “Would you like that?”

Crowley made another affirmative sound and nodded, barely breaking the motions of his head. The circling finger at his rim began to push, and the pressure built. 

“I could open you with a miracle, and in all honestly, I probably _will_ employ a miracle before it’s all over, but I rather like the idea of doing it the human way for now. What do you think, dear?”

Crowley didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. He just kept licking and sucking like his worthless life depended on it while Azriaphale breached him with first one, then two fingers. He moaned, feeling nearly desperate for more, while Aziraphale’s thick fingers scissored in him, spreading him. 

“Do you like that, Crowley? You good boy. I have to confess, I do, too. And you suck me so well. Your mouth is so lovely.”

He couldn’t help it, he preened under the praise, rocking back onto Aziraphale’s fingers to impale himself further. The angel twisted his fingers and found _that spot_ inside of him, making Crowley break suction on Aziraphale’s cock to cry out brokenly. 

“You like that?” Aziraphale asked, sounding slightly breathless. 

“Don’t stop,” Crowley begged. “I’ll do anything, just don’t stop…”

“Keep sucking me and I’ll keep fucking you with my fingers,” Aziraphale promised. Crowley obediently went back to his task. 

“Oh, my darling, you feel so good… I’m getting quite close… going to come soon…”

Crowley redoubled his efforts, his mouth tight around Aziraphale’s shaft, his sucking making vulgar, squelching sounds. His own cock was hard and leaking, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was making Aziraphale come, bringing his angel off. 

“My darling, so good for me. Are you ready?”

He answered by sucking harder and faster, his jaw starting to get sore but beyond caring. Below his hands, the angel quivered deliciously and Crowley sensed he was close. To help him along, he opened his throat and took Aziraphale as far as he could, relishing the push of the thick cock in the back of his throat. 

Aziraphale cried out, his hand in Crowley’s hair tightening, and the edge of pain was beyond wonderful. Crowley bobbed on him at this new depth and was thrilled when Azirapahle shouted his name, erupting. Crowley backed off just a bit then, so Aziraphale’s heavenly essence could flood his mouth. He licked and sucked every drop of the angel’s come, relishing the taste, loving that he’d made Aziraphale fall apart like that. Aziraphale bucked and thrashed beneath him, making guttural sounds, until finally, he collapsed back onto the pillows, limp and panting.

Crowley smiled to himself, the fingers still lodged in his arse but still now, and started carefully licking Aziraphale’s cock clean. Once he was done, he pressed one last kiss to the head of the still-hard cock and smiled up at Aziraphale. 

“Good?”

“Heavens, my dear boy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Are you still going to fuck me?”

Aziraphale’s blue eyes darkened. “Absolutely.”

Crowley didn’t wait for direction, he moved so he was straddling the angel, whining a bit when Aziraphale’s fingers pulled out, centering himself over his cock. He was dying to be filled by Aziraphale, dying to feel that thick cock fucking him, but forced himself to wait a minute. He lowered his body so his own cock was rubbing against Aziraphale’s and pressed a slow kiss to his mouth. He could still taste the faint traces of his own come, and hoped Aziraphale could taste his. Slowly, hoping to build intensity and desire, he ground his cock against Aziraphale’s. The angel’s hands caressed and gripped him, smoothing all over Crowley’s skin, and he felt goosebumps erupt in their wake. He’d fucked hundreds of humans - thousands - but he’d never even come close to wanting any of them the way he wanted his angel. Aziraphale was _all_ he wanted, and if he could choose one moment in his long life to live in forever, it would be this one, when he was naked, his skin pressed to his angel’s, their mouths exploring and hands wandering aimlessly. 

Eventually, Crowley felt one of Azirpahale’s hands leave his body, and he felt something nudging his hole. He groaned into the kiss, rocking his hips. 

“That’s it, darling,” Aziraphale encouraged softly while Crowley pressed ardent kisses to his chest. “Let me fuck you.”

Crowley laid one last kiss to his chest and pushed himself to sitting, replacing his mouth with his hands. He used his legs to raise his body, hovering over Aziraphale while the angel nestled his cock between his cheeks and against his loosened hole. Then he lowered himself, head thrown back, groaning with every inch of Aziraphale’s thick cock that he took. 

“Yes… that’s it, my darling… you’re so tight and hot and perfect…”

Crowley couldn’t answer, he was lost in the feeling of Aziraphale buried in him - _finally_. After thousands and thousands of years, he finally had his angel inside him - and he never wanted to feel anything else. If he’d discorporated in the moment from sheer bliss, he’d have arrived in hell with a smile on his face. 

Finally, Crowley had taken him as deep as he could and was resting on Aziraphale’s lap, full to bursting with lust and … something else. Azriaphale lay below him, breathing heavily, and ran his hands soothingly on Crowley’s trembling thighs. 

“You look so lovely up there, dear. It’s clear to see why so many artists have used you as their muse. You’re gorgeous - and so good.”

“Shut up,” Crowley groaned, but without any heat.

“But you _are_ good,” Aziraphale insisted. “Such a bad demon, but such a _good_ boy. Want to fuck yourself on me? Take your pleasure from me, dear.”

Crowley did as requested, raising then lowering himself on the angel’s shaft. The stretch was exquisite, and Aziraphale’s glans rubbed Crowley’s prostate. Once he was raised high enough so only the head of Aziraphale’s cock remained inside, he lowered himself with a groan. 

“That’s it. Very good, dear. Fuck me.”

He did so, relishing every blessed inch as it slid in and out of him. His hands on Aziraphale’s chest flexed and his fingers dug into the pale skin. He gained speed slowly, with each rise and fall, until he was fairly bouncing. 

“Fuck, angel… your cock feels so good… fuck!”

Azriaphale’s hands roamed Crowley’s lower body, squeezing his thighs, then going to his bum and gripping his arse cheeks - but staying away from Crowley’s flushed and weeping cock. 

“Oh yes, my darling. Ride me harder… faster.”

Crowley obeyed, bouncing harder, moaning like a cheap tart and not caring at all. It didn’t matter what sounds he made. All that mattered was Aziraphale filling him up - both his body and his soul. _Christ_ , he’d needed this. And he knew he’d never get enough. 

“I’m getting close,” he confessed, eyes still closed and head thrown back. “I’m gonna come soon, angel…”

Aziraphale sat up abruptly, nearly dislodging Crowley, but wrapping his arms around him to keep him close. Once Crowley was stabilized and back to riding him eagerly, he reached up to thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair and drag his mouth into a wet, filthy kiss. Crowley kissed him back as best he could while not breaking his rhythm, throwing himself headlong into the sensations. Aziraphale’s free hand went between them and wrapped around Crowley’s cock, and he cried out involuntarily. 

“Come for me, you darling boy. Come, you good demon. Spill your seed all over my body…”

Crowley broke with a shout of Aziraphale’s name, his entire body seizing up in a paroxysm of ecstasy. The tendons in his neck stood out and his face was contorted as if he were in great pain, but he'd never felt anything better. He called out Aziraphale’s name over and over, mixed with sounds that bore no relation to language, and came for what seemed like an eternity while Aziraphale’s hand stroked him through the orgasm. 

He was just starting to come down when Aziraphale pushed him backwards, hard. He sprawled inelegantly, his arse suddenly empty and his eyes wide, when quicker than a flash, Aziraphale covered him and thrust home again. Crowley shouted something unintelligible, his cock and arse almost painfully sensitive, but Aziraphale didn’t slow down. All Crowley could do was wrap his arms and legs around his angel and hold on for dear life while Aziraphale took him. 

And Aziraphale _did_ take him. He’d never been fucked quite as voraciously as Aziraphale was fucking him now, like a man - an _angel_ \- possessed. Crowley’s whole body rocked with every thrust and he clung to the angel. 

“You tempt me to madness, demon,” Aziraphale said in halting speech, his words interrupted by grunts of exertion. “I’m helpless against your wicked ways.”

Crowley had nothing to say to that - he wasn’t sure he could form words. He was dangerously close to coming again and his mind was a scramble. He just let himself be fucked mercilessly, moaning like a whore. 

Finally, with a grunt and an expletive, Aziraphale went stiff, and Crowley felt himself be filled further. He panted for breath, his arms around Aziraphale, stroking his back lovingly, clenching around the cock in his arse, hoping to increase Aziraphale’s pleasure. Aziraphale muttered and moaned into Crowley’s neck, and Crowley floated on a haze of bliss. 

At length, Aziraphale started to breathe again, and Crowley stroked his back. The angel remained buried in his arse, his face in Crowley’s neck, and Crowley basked in the sensation. After a few moments, Aziraphale lifted his head and his body to peer down at Crowley, his eyes wondering, his breath labored. 

“What is it about you that tempts me so?”

Crowley felt as if he could fly without his wings, but tried to play it cool. “I’m a demon. It’s my job.”

“I’d hate to be lumped in as part of your job,” Aziraphale said, his eyebrows knitted a bit.

“No. Not you. Never you.”

Aziraphale searched his face for a moment. “Good,” he said, then pressed a kiss to Crowley’s mouth. Crowley kissed him back eagerly, and chased his lips a little when he pulled away. 

The angel slowly and carefully pulled his still-hard cock out of Crowley’s body, prompting a whine that Crowley was powerless to stop. He kept his arms around the angel, though, hoping he wouldn’t leave right away, and was thrilled when Aziraphale flopped down on the bed next to him, even though it broke the embrace. Crowley breathed an inward sigh of relief. 

They lay there, side by side, both of them calming their breathing. Crowley stared at the ceiling and longed for more - he wanted to hold Aziraphale, to caress him, to speak lovingly the way his human lovers so frequently tried. He’d always shunned such ideas before - what was wrong with him now? 

He knew _exactly_ what was wrong, but rebuffed the thought. 

“Well, that was a thing,” Aziraphale said, breaking the silence.

Crowley grinned up at the ceiling. “It sure was. A hell of a thing.”

“If that’s going to be my reward for the occasional temptation, I think I’ll likely be filling in for you a bit more.”

The words were a shock to Crowley and he turned to look at the angel with wide eyes. “You want to do this again?”

Aziraphale turned to look at him with a smile. “Yes, I rather think I do.”

Crowley’s heart leapt in his chest, but he tried not to let on. He turned back to the ceiling. “Makes sense. The humans all say I’m spectacular in bed.”

He heard Aziraphale chuckle and mutter, ‘vain thing.’ 

All Crowley could do was smile in return. Anything he said might have been too much and could ruin the moment - this golden, perfect moment. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Aziraphale said, then waved his hand over Crowley’s abdomen, cleaning up the mess. Crowley looked down at his bare stomach, a little taken aback in spite of himself. 

Before he thought better of it, he looked over at Aziraphale and blurted, “Would you like to stay tonight?”

Aziraphale gave him a sexy smile. “Are you going to attempt to tell me that you’re not satisfied?”

Crowley thought about it for a second. He’d say anything to make the angel stay, but didn’t want to lie. So he said, “I’m satisfied and I want more at the same time. You should stay.”

“You’re very tempting, dear, but no. That would be too much.”

He wanted to ask about ‘too much’, but didn’t get a chance. Aziraphale was rolling away from him, out of the bed, and Crowley watched him go with something like dismay. 

“You don’t have to go, angel,” he tried, hoping he didn’t sound desperate, afraid he did. 

“I think I probably should.” Aziraphale got to his feet and snapped his fingers - suddenly he was dressed again, everything perfectly done up, from the buckles of his white silk shoes to the ruffles of his white lace collar. Crowley just watched him, lying on his side, trying to come up with something he could say that would make him stay. 

“Oh, don’t look so grim,” Aziraphale chastised. “I had a lovely time, and I’d like to do it again. Perhaps soon.”

“Soon?”

“Well, relatively soon. Whenever the mood strikes the two of us.”

Crowley knew the mood would strike anytime he was around Aziraphale. Anytime at all. It would be up to the angel to decide when they made lo- when they _fucked_. 

“I’ll see myself out, shall I?”

“Er, sorry. I’ll get up and walk you out.” Crowley got to his feet and snapped his own fingers, redressing partially - just enough to be decent. He walked with Aziraphale to the door, still unsure what to say. He was trying to come up with something devastatingly clever when they reached the door and Aziraphale stopped there. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Crowley. I do hope it won’t be too long before we do this again.”

“Do you mean the drinking or --?”

“All of it. All of it was lovely.”

“Yeah. Lovely.”

Aziraphale took him by surprise when he leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Crowley’s cheek - just a gentle buss of lips against skin. That skin tingled excitedly. 

“Until next time,” Aziraphale breathed, and Crowley shivered. 

In a blink, Aziraphale was gone. Crowley stood there for long moments, staring at the place the angel had just been, trying to make sense of his thoughts. But there were only two.

First: Satan almighty, Crowley was _in love_.

Second: He was _so fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I hope you're enjoying this story. We're at the halfway point... lots more smut and pining to go! 
> 
> Here is ohstars' beautiful art for this chapter!  
> 


	4. England, 1832ad

Crowley was practically vibrating with excitement as he made his way down the pavement in Soho towards Aziraphale’s shop. It was rare - very rare indeed - for him to be so jubilant, but he couldn’t help himself. The prospect of seeing his angel always put him in a good mood, of course, but today was special. He had an assignment from the Home Office that he needed help with - Aziraphale’s help. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He could do this on his own, and Hell certainly expected him to, but Crowley wanted to be thwarted this time. And now that he’d had this idea… it was all he could think about. Aziraphale just _had_ to agree. Crowley may discorporate with disappointment if he didn’t. 

For the last two hundred and twenty nine years, they’d been working off of an amended arrangement. Like always, they stayed out of each other’s way and lent a hand when needed, sometimes trading miracles for temptations and vice versa. They’d _also_ been sleeping together fairly regularly, much to Crowley’s delight. It didn’t happen every time they saw each other - in fact it only happened once or twice a decade - but it was _something_. Crowley lived for those stolen moments, and did his best to orchestrate as many of them as he could without being needy or clingy or scaring Aziraphale off. It would never do for the angel to realize that Crowley had fallen in love with him. That could ruin everything. Thankfully, angels and demons couldn’t sense each other’s emotions, so he didn’t have to worry that Aziraphale would be able to pick up on his feelings the way he would if he were human or another angel (not fallen). Thank Someone for that.

But for now, Crowley was positively ebuillant. He nodded politely to people he passed on the street, entirely too happy to be his usual snarky self. He spotted Aziraphale’s shop a short ways ahead and practically skipped the rest of the way there. The door opened when he reached it and he bowed low to a man and woman who exited the shop, a smile lighting his features. The man and woman nodded in return, and Crowley waited until they passed before he entered. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise. I haven’t seen you since you left for the colonies last year. Back already?”

“Of course I’m back, wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Crowley answered, but there was no bite to his words, and Aziraphale took no offense. 

He took a moment just to look at the angel, _drinking_ him in, really. Aziraphale had taken quite well to the fashions of the early nineteenth century and frankly, he looked good enough to eat. Crowley hadn’t seen his love in one year, three months, two weeks, and four days, and the last time they’d seen each other, it had been a quick stopping in to let him know he was leaving for America. It had been nearly five years since he’d _touched_ his angel, (four years, seven months, three weeks and two days), and Crowley was practically dying to get his hands on Aziraphale. But not yet. If everything went according to his plan, there would be plenty of touching soon. 

Apparently, he’d stared at Aziraphale too long, because the angel’s brows knitted and he looked concerned. “My dear, are you alright?”

Crowley shook himself and plastered his smile back on. “I'm fine! Fine, angel. Just glad to see you, is all.”

Aziraphale softened. “I’m glad to see you, too. Come! Have a seat in my back room. We’ll share a bottle of wine and talk about your travels. I’d love to hear about America.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale obediently, plopping down on his usual side of the sofa. Aziraphale fussed around the room a bit, gathering a bottle, corkscrew, and two glasses while Crowley watched him appreciatively. 

Finally, the angel handed him a glass of wine and sat in his usual seat beside his desk, taking a sip. He smacked his lips with obvious enjoyment when he was done and smiled at Crowley. “Tell me about America, dear. Was it simply ripe for making trouble? I imagine so.”

“It was, yes, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh? This isn’t a social call?”

“Well, it is and it isn’t. I need a favor.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Well, name it, dear, and if it’s within my capabilities, you shall have it.”

Crowley swallowed hard, his entire body feeling coiled tight, like a spring. Now was the moment, and he took a deep breath.

“I need you to be my wife.”

Aziraphale let out a short ‘ha!’ of laughter, then it died. He stared at Crowley, his eyes wide and amused, and Crowley waited him out. After a few beats of silence, Aziraphale asked, “You need me to be your _what_ now?”

“My wife. I need you to pose as my wife.”

“Whyever would I do that?”

He hadn’t said no, and that had been Crowley’s worst fear - that Aziraphale would just dismiss the whole idea out of hand. But he seemed at least willing to hear what Crowley was proposing, and Crowley was thrilled. He leaned forward to speak.

“I’ve been given an assignment by Home Office, classified priority three. I’m to tempt the Duke of Strawbridge into greed.”

“The gentry already tend to be a greedy lot, so it shouldn’t be hard. What does hell want him to do?”

“Hell wants him to increase rent on his tenants by 750%.”

Aziraphale was aghast. “They’ll never be able to afford it! They’ll revolt! It will mean civil war!”

Crowley raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know. I don’t want it to happen, either. So I need you to thwart me on this one.”

“And how will I do that as your wife?”

“Lord Strawbridge is notoriously soft for his wife. He takes her advice deeply to heart. I figured while I was working on the lord, you could be working on the lady to thwart me. Do you see?”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said, taking a sip of his wine. “That could work. How sure are you that he will heed his wife’s advice?”

“Dead sure. He always does. And if for some reason he _doesn’t_ this time, we can stop him another way. But I’m sure this will work.”

“How do you propose we get close to them?”

“He’s hosting an exclusive house party in Kent in two weeks. We’ll miracle our way in as the Earl and Lady of Crowley.”

Aziraphale looked pensive. “Do you know, it’s been a thousand years since I was a woman,” he remarked idly, and Crowley took heart.

“I know. And you make a lovely woman, I’m sure.” He was, in fact, absolutely certain that Aziraphale as a woman would be a knockout. He hoped he would get to see.

“I wasn’t especially fond of the attitudes towards women in the ninth century, but things are a bit better now…”

“And you weren’t married in the ninth century, either. You didn’t have a husband to protect you. This time, you will.”

“I will, indeed,” Aziraphale agreed, then his look sharpened, although the corner of his mouth quirked. “I suppose we’ll be sharing a room for this exercise?”

Crowley gave him his most winning smile. “The Countess of Crowley can have whatever her heart desires, of course, but her husband would certainly appreciate sharing a room - and a bed - with his wife.”

“Foul fiend,” Aziraphale muttered, but it was fond. Crowley grinned. “If I do this, I expect you to treat me like a lady - and address me as such. I will become a she for the duration of our visit to Kent.”

His heart fluttered in his chest with excitement. “Absolutely, angel.”

“You can’t slip up and refer to me as ‘he’.”

“I won’t.”

“How long did you say we’d be in Kent?”

“I didn’t. It’s a house party and it’s supposed to last a week, but you know how these things are. Most people stay for at least a week or two longer. I’d figure we’d stay until the job is done - two, maybe three weeks.”

“Hmm.” Aziraphale took another sip of his wine and Crowley did his best not to discorporate on the spot from sheer excitement. It sounded for all the world like he was going to do it, and Crowley was ecstatic. 

“It’ll be fun, angel. You’ll get to dress in all the frippery you like. I’ll miracle you up a wardrobe that’s the height of fashion.”

The angel made a mildly distressed face. “Oh, don’t miracle it. There are so many seamstresses that need work. You should pay for them.”

Whatever he wanted. “Alright, I’ll pay for them. You have my word.” Aziraphale gave a satisfied nod and Crowley went on. “You can take tea with the other ladies and play cards and show off your skills on the pianoforte - or the harp.”

“And keep my husband satisfied at night, I presume,” Aziraphale remarked dryly, with twinkling eyes.

“Well, it only makes sense to take advantage of our proximity,” Crowley pointed out with a roguish smile, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t actually _hear_ his heart pounding.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Wily serpent.”

Crowley leaned forward to sweeten the deal. “I’m given to understand that the Duke of Strawbridge has an extensive library. Over five thousand volumes.”

“Yes, I’ve heard much the same.”

“I’ll buy you every book he’ll let you have if you do this for me.”

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow. “You’re quite eager to avert this civil war, aren’t you?”

That was _not_ the reason he was so anxious to do this, not at all. He desperately wanted to pretend - even for a couple of weeks - that Aziraphale was his, that they were in love and happily married. He wanted to pass the night with his angel tucked into his arms - after they made love for hours. He wanted a couple of weeks - just a couple of weeks - to be able to wear his emotions on his sleeve and show the world how he felt about Aziraphale. Honestly, his burning desire to do this had next to nothing to do with his assignment from Home Office. That was just an excuse. But he could never let Aziraphale know that, so he sat back in his chair, nodding. “Sure. Civil war would be messy and bloody and a nightmare of paperwork. Better just to be thwarted and have done with it. You know how I hate carnage. Just trying to avoid it.”

“Hmm. Well, alright.”

Crowley perked up. “Yeah?”

“Yes. It’ll be good to get away from the shop for a bit, and you’re right - I _would_ enjoy being a woman for a couple of weeks. It’s been a while. Could be fun.”

He nearly leapt off the sofa and embraced Aziraphale, but stopped himself just in time. “Thank you. You won’t regret this.”

“I hope not. So, what needs to happen now?”

“Now I’ll spend the next two weeks arranging for us to pose as the Earl and Countess of Crowley. Have to procure clothing, transport, servants, all of that. I’ll perform some background miracles to get it all done.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, no. You just do whatever you need to do to close the shop for a few weeks. Would you like to handle your wardrobe yourself?”

His eyes twinkled. “I believe my husband promised me a wardrobe. The height of fashion, I believe he said.”

Crowley smiled brightly. “He did, indeed.”

“Well, he’d better deliver.”

“Oh, he intends to.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and grabbed the wine bottle, pouring more into his glass and then refilling Crowley’s, too. When he finished, he remained leaning forward, his glass raised. “I propose a toast - to married life.”

Crowley raised his glass with a smile. “To married life.”

Their glasses clinked together and they each took a sip, smiling at each other over the rim.

~*~O~*~

He was mildly disappointed when he pulled up in front of Aziraphale’s shop twelve days later in the coach he’d procured. Aziraphale waited on the front step eagerly, looking excited - and very much like his usual self. Not that his usual self wasn’t fucking stunning, he absolutely was. Crowley was madly in love with him no matter what he looked like or what he wore, but he’d been rather looking forward to seeing him as a woman. Curious, perhaps, was the better word. Hell, they both applied.

The coach stopped in front of the shop and Crowley disembarked, coming to greet Aziraphale while the footmen started loading his trunks. 

“My,” Aziraphale remarked, taking in the coach. “You spared no expense, did you?”

“Priority three, remember?” Crowley teased. “Are you ready for a relaxing fortnight - or more - in the country?”

“Oh, yes. Quite. I expect rusticating to be good fun.”

Crowley eyed one of the trunks as the footmen grappled with it. “How many books did you pack, angel?”

Aziraphale averted his eyes. “Not too many.”

“Because it looks like Thomas and Zachary are having a terrible time lifting your trunks, and clothes aren’t that heavy. Are you sure you didn’t pack half the shop? Shall I have a look?”

The angel pursed his lips at a Crowley who was grinning unrepentantly. “I didn’t overpack, I’ll have you know. I only brought around twenty volumes.”

“Twenty!” Crowley exclaimed.

“Yes, that’s all,” Aziraphale said primly. “I usually read between five and six volumes a day, so I really was being quite sensible, I thought.”

The final trunk was loaded onto the coach and Aziraphale nodded, satisfied. “Let me lock up and I’ll be out in a minute. Please do wait for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” Crowley promised.

Aziraphale ducked inside the shop and Crowley stood on the pavement, waiting patiently. He nodded a polite greeting to a couple of people who passed, unsure why he was being so bloody _nice_ , and just chalked it up to his good mood. For the next two weeks - or more - he was going to get to pretend to be married to the angel, and the thought was thrilling. He couldn’t wait. 

There was a flash of light from within the shop, one Crowley knew to be associated with larger or more labor-intensive miracles, and he wondered for a second. What could he be doing?

A moment later, the door opened and Crowley lost his breath.

It was Aziraphale, but he - _she_ looked very different. She’d taken on a female body, and what a body it was. Silver-blonde curls were piled on top of her head, except for a few that fell and framed her angelic face. She’d shrunk herself a few inches and was now rather petite, although she’d given herself absolutely luscious curves. Crowley’s hands itched to sink into her soft hips, to bury his face in her ample cleavage pushed up by the light-colored day dress. She seemed to _radiate_ in that way Aziraphale always had, but somehow, now, it was even more noticeable. She was absolutely the most stunning creature Crowley had ever seen, and she was to be his for the next couple of weeks. 

Then she _smiled_ and Crowley nearly collapsed, his poor heart thudding against his ribs. 

“Aziraphale?”

“Zira, please,” she corrected him. “I think Aziraphale is a bit too masculine for me right now, don’t you agree? You’re welcome to call me whatever you like behind closed doors, of course, but I think I should like my name to be ‘Zira’ to those who don’t know us.”

“So long as I can still call you ‘angel’,” Crowley managed.

Aziraphale smiled at him, her face shining beautifully, and Crowley lost his ability to breathe for a moment. 

“Will you help me, husband?” she asked, her hand extended gracefully, waiting for him. 

Crowley shook himself from his stupor and smiled as brightly as he could manage. The charade he’d been waiting for started right now, and he was ready. “It would be my honor, darling Zira.”

~*~O~*~

It was a little more than a half day’s ride to Lord Strawbridge’s manor in Kent, and the occupants of the coach used the time to plan their backstory a bit and strategize for their tasks ahead. At least, that’s what they were _supposed_ to be doing. Crowley, for his part, spent a great deal of the time they were in the coach just staring at Aziraphale from behind his glasses, completely taken by her beauty.

“I assume we’ll be using miracles to gain entry into the house party?” she asked. 

“I miracled us an invitation and we’ll use a couple of small miracles to plant the memory of our names in a few people to ease the way.”

She pursed her rosy lips. “We’re not supposed to interfere with free will, Crowley.”

“And I’m not,” he protested. “I’m simply tempting them into believing they’ve heard about us, that’s all.”

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced. “Seems awfully close to a line you ought not be crossing.”

“Will you just relax, angel? I already told you, this is priority three. The rules are a little bit more flexible for me when it’s that high a priority. And you don’t have to do anything. I’ll do the dirty work.”

“If you insist.”

She looked out of the window and Crowley watched her. Her face still looked like the Aziraphale he knew, just more delicate, with softer features. He was dying to touch her skin, to see if it felt as silky as it looked, but refrained. Soon, he hoped. 

With a wicked smile, he leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial voice, “I’m looking forward to this entire exercise, really, but I’m very much looking forward to certain bits of it.”

She turned to look at him curiously, one delicate eyebrow raised. “Oh? What bits might those be?”

Crowley answered her with a leer, and she flushed prettily - just as he’d hoped she would. Then she swatted his arm with her fan. “Foul fiend.”

“You would deny your husband?” he teased. 

“Of course not. But we’re here to do a _job_ , Crowley.”

“I’m aware. But we’ll have time alone, too, while the humans sleep.”

“I thought you rather enjoyed sleeping, yourself.”

Crowley had no intention of missing a single moment of the next few weeks doing something so stupid as _sleeping._ Not for all the riches in hell. But he simply gave her a lascivious look and said, “I’d enjoy you more.”

“My, but you’re randy. We’ll have to let people believe we’re newlyweds, with the way you’re carrying on.”

“Is it a problem?”

“No, I think not. Every woman wants to be admired and desired by her husband. I’ll be the envy of every lady at the party.”

“I intend to see that you are,” Crowley said seriously, but with a smile. Then he asked, “What did you think of your wardrobe?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s lovely. You truly kept your word - it’s the height of fashion. You outdid yourself, dear, really.”

“Glad to have pleased you, angel.”

Aziraphale gave him a slightly shrewd look. “You _did_ pay for the garments, didn’t you? You didn’t use miracles or anything to complete them?”

“I paid for them - and paid handsomely. Don’t worry, angel, the seamstresses were very well compensated.”

“Good. Did you miracle them at all?”

“Well, I had to miracle them so they’d fit you properly, since the seamstresses had never met you. And I may have miracled their schedules free so they could work on your clothes. But not much. I knew what it meant to you to support the hardworking humans.”

What he didn’t reveal was the fact that he’d given the seamstresses little blessings in parting out of gratitude. Aziraphale always looked so smug when Crowley did good for no reason.

Aziraphale sighed, “I do hope I enjoy being a woman this time. I have to admit, it feels… odd.”

“Bad odd?”

“Just… not like myself. I’m so very used to my male body. It remains to be seen if I’ll get used to this or not.”

“Should be fun, angel. And if it’s not, you don’t have to do it long. You’ll have your cock back in no time.”

She pursed her lips and gave him a mock reproving look. “Really, dear, there’s no need to be vulgar.”

Crowley just grinned unrepentantly. “If I wasn’t, you’d think something was wrong with me.”

“A fair point. But do try to remember that I’m meant to be a refined lady who wouldn’t appreciate her husband’s boorish ways.”

“I’m never a boor. And you’re really throwing yourself into being a woman, aren’t you?”

“Well, if we want people to believe us, we have to be believable.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“I do hope we arrive soon,” Aziraphale fretted.

“Tired of my company already?”

“Not at all,” she demurred, and Crowley felt this heart flutter. “I’m just ready to begin, is all.”

“Well, we’ll be there within an hour. Why don’t you sit back and relax? Perhaps read a book? We won’t be long.”

“Thank you, dear. I believe I will read for a while.”

~*~O~*~

They arrived just a short while later, and seemed to be accepted into the party with little resistance. Crowley produced his forged invitation and informed the butler of who he and Aziraphale were pretending to be, and they were shown to their rooms without delay. They’d arrived just before dinner and, had they been human, likely wouldn’t have had time to change out of their traveling clothes before the dinner bell rang. As it was, they only had to employ a quick miracle, then both were fresh as a daisy, ready to mingle. 

Crowley and Aziraphale were sat together at dinner, but took the opportunity to start getting to know the other guests at the party. It seemed that there were twelve other lords present, and seventeen ladies. Only about half of the men were married, and a good portion of the women there were on the marriage market. Crowley was glad he’d proposed that they be ‘married’ to Aziraphale. He didn’t think he could have stood it if she’d been the subject of multiple people’s ardor for two weeks. 

Everyone seemed to accept who they claimed to be with little dispute, and the few people who seemed doubtful about their identities were handled quickly with a little clandestine miracle. Before the third course, he and Aziraphale had been thoroughly accepted into the group and Crowley was pleased. 

Dinner progressed without incident, and as traditional, the men and women separated into two groups after the meal. The men adjourned to one of the parlors to smoke cigars and drink brandy. Crowley hated cigars but didn’t mind drinking brandy. He chatted with the other men, deflecting questions he didn’t like, worming his way in so he could perform the temptation he was supposed to. 

But he was terribly distracted. Like a man besotted, all he could think of was Aziraphale and getting back to her as quickly as possible. Tonight, there was scheduled to be dancing and he very much couldn’t wait to get his angel in his arms. He’d been dreaming of doing so for centuries, since before he’d realized he was in love. The idea that he’d get to do so now, within a short time, was dizzying.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the men finished their alcohol and made their way to the manor’s grand ballroom. The women hadn’t arrived yet, and Crowley picked up a flute of champagne to sip anxiously while he waited. 

After a few minutes, the women started trickling in. Crowley scanned the room for a familiar head of white-blonde curls and smiled when he spotted it. He deposited his champagne on a nearby tray and crossed the room to Aziraphale, smiling. 

“My lady,” he said, bowing low and offering his hand to her. 

She flushed becomingly while the other women around her giggled. Crowley smiled, but his smile was only for Aziraphale. 

“This is your husband, Zira?” one of them asked. 

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. This is the Earl of Crowley, my husband.”

Crowley tipped an imaginary hat to the ladies. “It’s a pleasure.” Then he turned back to Aziraphale. “May I have this dance, angel?”

Aziraphale nodded, still flushing, and lay her hand in Crowley’s. He pressed a kiss to it then led her out onto the floor. Once there, he spun her once, then pulled her into his arms, closer than could be considered decent. 

“Crowley,” she complained, still smiling. “You’re making a scene.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort. Simply dancing with my wife.”

“We’re too close.”

Crowley leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Not as close as we’re going to be in a couple of hours.”

Aziraphale’s cheek grew hot next to his, and Crowley was pleased with that. He pressed a kiss to her ear and straightened, giving her a little of the requested space. 

“What have you found out?” he asked, willing his cock to behave itself. 

“I was able to speak with the Duchess of Strawbridge for a time and make her acquaintance. She seems to be very nice, but I can certainly see why people say she dominates her husband’s opinions.”

“Yes, I spent a while chatting with the Duke, and I can see the same thing. He’s very easily led. This assignment would be a complete cakewalk were it not for a certain angel thwarting me.”

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself.. It’s going to take me a while to get close enough to her to do what needs doing, although I made some inroads. She’s invited me to take tea with her, and then she’s offered me a tour of the manor afterwards.”

Crowley grinned. “I’m quite sure the only part of that you’re looking forward to is the library.”

“You know me too well,” Aziraphale replied, her blue-grey eyes twinkling. 

Crowley melted in the face of her smile and tightened his arms around her a little. “Is there anything else worth sharing?”

“Oh, yes. You’ve made quite a splash amongst the female population of this party.”

“I have?”

“Absolutely. The others were going on and on about how charming the Earl of Crowley is, and how handsome.”

Crowley couldn’t care less about the other women. All he cared about was, “Do you find me to be charming and handsome?”

Aziraphale smiled up at him with a soul-melting look. “Obviously so. Why else would I have married you?”

Christ. The end of this evening couldn’t come fast enough.

~*~O~*~

Crowley dismissed the valet that had been assigned to him for the duration of the party when he could no longer tolerate the man fussing over his clothing - which didn’t take long. Aziraphale, however, seemed to relish the idea of having a maid to help her dress and undress, so the young woman was still flitting around Aziraphale while she sat at the dressing table, brushing her long, silvery hair. Crowley was impatient for the brunette woman to leave, his cock already twitching in his pants as he watched his ‘wife’.

Azriaphale caught sight of Crowley over her shoulder in the mirror and flushed becomingly. Crowley took that as a sign. 

“Thank you, Martha,” he said abruptly - and a little louder than he’d intended. “I’ll see to my wife’s needs for now.”

The young girl looked up at him with wide eyes, then over at Aziraphale. “My lady?”

“It’s quite alright, dear. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Martha gave a little curtsey and laid the brush down on the dressing table, scurrying from the room. Crowley waited until she was gone and made his way over to the dressing table - and Aziraphale sitting there. She watched him approach, her lips quirked in a half smile, and Crowley did his best to tamp down the nerves he felt. It was just Aziraphale, after all. They’d done this dozens and dozens of times by now.

“Did you have a nice time tonight, angel?” he asked casually, laying his hands on her arms and looking at her in the mirror. 

“I did, a very lovely time.”

Crowley slid his fingers up her arms, then towards her neck, catching on the silk of the dressing gown and pulling it aside, exposing her creamy shoulders. As soon as her milky skin was bared, he bent to press kisses against it. 

“Good,” he murmured, trailing kisses. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Did you have a good time?”

He gave an affirmative hum, parting his lips to taste the column of her neck. “‘Course I did. I was with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Aziraphale dipped her head to the side to allow him more space to kiss. “Oh, I don’t know. Lady Montague is very lovely.”

“She’s a hag,” Crowley answered simply, still trailing his lips along her neck.

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Lady Kingston --”

“Hideous.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Really, dear, you can’t have found fault with all of them.”

Crowley let his hands slide from caressing her arms down to her lush hips, stroking her through the satin of her nightgown. “You’re asking me to compare these humans to a literal angel. They never stood a chance. Any of them.”

She didn't answer and Crowley pressed one last kiss to her neck, then switched to the other side - an entire expanse of skin to lick and touch and taste.

“Are you seducing me, Crowley?”

He didn't slow down or hesitate. “Yes, I am. Is it working?”

“Perhaps,” she said, but lay her head to the opposite side, baring her throat. Crowley gripped her hips, flexing his fingers in the flesh, then sliding them up her sides. Aziraphale jumped a little from the light touch, apparently ticklish, and Crowley was delighted. But his intent wasn’t to tickle, it was to bring another sort of pleasure, and he coasted his hands upwards until his thumbs grazed the swell of her breasts.

“Crowley,” she whined, but he didn’t answer. Gently, he covered her breasts with his hands and was thrilled to feel the tight knot of her nipples beneath his hands. 

“I want you, Aziraphale,” he confessed, lightly massaging her breasts and nipping the skin of her neck. “Come to bed with me.”

Azriaphale turned her head, pulling away from him a bit, and he raised his head long enough for Aziraphale to catch his lips in a searing kiss. Crowley didn’t hesitate, he parted her lips with his tongue and dipped inside, tasting her fully. His hands massaged her breasts a little harder, and Aziraphale whimpered into the kiss. He let her go at once.

“I’m sorry, I’m so--”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she told him, picking up his hands and placing them firmly back over her breasts. Crowley didn’t have time to think before she was kissing him again, needy and insistent, and it was his turn to whimper into the kiss. 

One of Aziraphale’s hands came up to card through his hair, her nails raking along his scalp, and he thought he may combust from sheer _want_. Their kiss became more passionate, more desperate, and when Aziraphale broke away, panting for breath, Crowley went back to her neck eagerly, unwilling to stop tasting her.

“Take me to bed, husband,” she purred, and Crowley groaned. He scooped her into his arms without another thought and carried her to the bed, kissing her the whole way, their tongues tangled. The kiss broke when they arrived at the bed and Crowley lay her down gently. He took a minute just to take her in, to bathe in the sight of her. Her silvery hair was spread all around her head like a fucking halo, and her eyes were bright, even in the dimly lit room. The silk negligee did nothing to hide her curves, and the tight knots of her nipples puckered the fabric. She had her legs bent, her thighs closed demurely, and Crowley couldn’t wait to get to the treasure those thighs hid away. She was lovely, the most lovely being in all of creation and, for the next two weeks, she was his. Unbelievable.

With a coquettish smile, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Instantly, her negligee and all of Crowley’s clothes - including his glasses - were gone. He glanced down at himself to see his cock, hard and eager and weeping, but only daring to look away from her for a minute. Her breasts, so lovely to the touch, were even more lovely bared and heaving with her breaths. Her skin was like the finest alabaster, her belly soft and rounded, and she looked for all the world like a statue of any Greek goddess. He wondered idly if she’d modeled for any sculptors back then, but did not have much time to wonder before he was claimed by the fog of lust through which he had been swimming. 

“You’re beautiful,” he managed - the truest thing he knew. And she _was_. No other creature in six thousand years even came close to rivaling her beauty, no matter what form she - or he - was in. He loved her completely, in any form. 

She raised her arms, reaching for him. “Come to me, Crowley. Come touch me and kiss me.”

Crowley fell on her, barely cognizant enough to keep his weight off of her so he wouldn’t crush her. His kiss was wild, demanding, and she gave back to him with equal fervor. He propped himself over her with one hand and used the other to skirt all over her body, touching all of her that he could, caressing her legs, gripping her bum, sliding up to massage her breast with the firm pressure she seemed to like, then plucking and pinching at the nipple. Crowley hadn’t had sex with a woman in more than two hundred years - he hadn’t had sex with _anyone_ but Aziraphale since 1603, when he’d realized he was in love - but he still remembered women’s bodies well enough. Or, at least, he hoped he did. His memory was about to be put to the test. 

Aziraphale keened below him, and he broke the kiss to start trailing his lips and tongue down her neck, nipping her collarbone, and then across her chest. He took a moment to take in the sight of her breast for a moment before he opened his mouth and sucked her nipple. 

“Ooh,” she cried, her body arching and her hands going to his head to hold him in place. But there was no danger of him letting go - not anytime soon. He suckled and licked happily, relishing the feel of her pebbled peak under his tongue while she keened above him. 

“So you… oh… so you like me in this body, yes?”

He released her nipple and blew a jet of cool air onto it, watching it tighten further. “I like you in either form. Any form you take. It’s just that I haven’t been with you in this body, and I want to explore and play a bit. Is that alright?”

“Yes, yes. That’s lovely, dear.”

Crowley grinned and resumed his licking and suckng, this time on the other nipple. His hand drifted down to the junction of her thighs, seeking out her effort. The hair there was cottony-soft, and he caressed her for just a moment before his fingers dipped between the petals of her sex. He was overjoyed to find her incredibly wet already, and released her nipple with a pop. 

“Is that all for me?” he asked, sliding his fingers back and forth in the wetness, avoiding her clit, teasing her.

“Yes, it’s for you, please dear…”

“No miracles?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, no miracles. It’s all because of you.”

Crowley was ridiculously pleased with that answer and circled her entrance as a reward. “Are you sure?” he teased.

Aziraphale groaned in frustration. “Dammit, Crowley, if you don’t fuck me _right this instant_...”

He chuckled, but slid two fingers into her heat obligingly. “Such a demanding little thing…” 

“Crowley, _please_...”

Crowley pressed kisses to her abdomen, resituating himself so he was more fully between her legs. His desperate cock dug into the mattress, but he didn’t pay it any attention just yet. Soon. He’d be fucking her soon. But for now…

He paused to watch his two fingers pumping in and out of her for a moment, taking in the beauty of her effort. Her cunt was a rosy pink and glistening wet, looking for all the world like an exotic flower that had been kissed with dew. Her clit was just barely hidden between the folds, near the apex, and his fingers sliding in and out of her made a wet sound that made him nearly feral with desire. Her smell, too, was intoxicating - musky but sweet, and he was dying for a taste of her. His mouth watered, and he tore his eyes away from her cunt to look up at her gorgeous face. She was panting for breath and her ample breasts were heaving. Her blue eyes were hazed with lust, and he wondered how his poor, blackened heart could love someone so much. 

“Please, Crowley,” she begged. “Don’t leave me like this.”

He lowered his head, eyes never leaving hers, and licked a stripe from where his fingers fucked her up to her clit, circling it. Her taste exploded across his tongue and he did his best to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. She groaned and closed her eyes, her hands coming up to grasp her breasts. Crowley smirked to himself and went back to licking her. 

The demon poured his ruined heart and damned soul into licking her cunt, bringing her pleasure. His fingers continued to fuck her and she made the most delightful noises - sounds that were utterly bereft of consonants. Crowley was reminded of their first time together, centuries ago, in Rome. He’d fallen in love with getting the angel off that night, had possibly fallen entirely in love, and the intervening years had not lessened his desire to please Aziraphale. 

Crowley suckled her clit between lip-covered teeth, and she cried out loudly, grasping his head and fisting her hands in his hair. The edge of pain spurred him on and he moaned into her cunt, licking and sucking ravenously. 

“Oh, Crowley, your _tongue_...”

An idea sparked and Crowley closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating. He felt his tongue fork and started applying the fork to her clit, scissoring onto it. She shrieked, her hand tightening in his hair, and he fucked her harder with his fingers. 

“Crowley, Crowley, it’s so good…. Oh! _Fuck!_ ”

Her hips started rolling, trying to get closer, and she was a symphony of needy sounds. Crowley crooked his two fingers inside her, seeking out that ridged spot, and she flew apart, screaming his name. 

He worked her through her orgasm while moisture flooded his fingers, but he didn’t stop licking her cunt or fucking her with his fingers. She was incoherent, babbling mindlessly, her whole body stiff. The grip in his hair was painful, and he groaned with pleasure into her body. 

When she finally started coming down, he pressed a kiss to her swollen clit and slowly withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck off her juices, his eyes watching her carefully. She lay panting for breath, her breasts heaving, her thighs quivering, her head thrown back. She was absolutely the most erotic vision he’d ever seen, and he wished he could preserve the moment forver. 

“Christ,” she swore, sounding short of breath. 

“You liked that?” Crowley asked, a little smug. 

“If I had known that’s what you would do to me as a woman, I’d have changed my effort years ago.”

He chuckled, pleased with that answer. “I’m glad you liked it. But we’re not done.”

She raised her head tiredly. “We’re not?”

“Oh, no. Not even close. Are you ready?”

Crowley didn’t give her a chance to answer before he lowered his mouth to her cunt again, this time plunging his tongue into her core. Her hips rocketed off the bed and she squealed, but he didn’t let up. He fucked her with his tongue, using a small miracle to make it human-shaped again but longer and thicker, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her a little more still. She cried out - his name, filthy encouragement, and even some light blasphemy - all of which delighted the demon to no end. But what was _really_ delightful was the heavenly taste of her cunt surrounding his tongue, and the way she trembled as he ate her out. Crowley couldn’t get enough. 

He fucked her with his tongue until she came twice more, flooding his mouth with her heavenly essence. He was just about to go to work to do it again when she grabbed his hair and pulled. 

“Come here, Crowley. I want you to fuck me. I _demand_ that you fuck me properly.”

He withdrew his tongue slowly, his eyes blazing up at her. “Is this not enough for you?”

“I want you to fuck me. Now, Crowley.”

Crowley grinned and placed one last kiss to her flushed sex. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

He raised up from between her legs, his eyes hungry and never leaving hers as he crawled up her body slowly. The air cooled the juices on his chin, and he considered wiping them off, but left them. They were a point of pride for him - he’d made her come over and over until he knew his face was shining. Let her see the evidence of what he’d done. 

It seemed she wanted to taste the evidence, as well. As soon as he was close enough, she grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him down, capturing his mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss. He didn't stop her when she suckled at his lips, then ran her tongue around his mouth, gathering her own taste.

“Mmm,” she said when she seemed satisfied. “How I’ve missed that taste.”

“I’ll manifest a cunt for you anytime you want,” Crowley vowed. “You just say the word, and I’ll make you the prettiest cunt you ever saw.”

She smiled up at him. “I’ll remember that. But for right now, I just want your cock. Please.”

Crowley was only too happy to give it to her. He used one hand to line himself up, then plunged himself into her wet heat with a groaned ‘fuck’. Aziraphale threw her head back and clutched Crowley tight, her fingernails digging into his back and her legs wrapping around his waist. He opened his eyes to look down on her, taking in her gorgeous face, and slid his cock out, watching her. When he’d pulled nearly all of the way out, he pushed himself back in, a little faster. She purred, and he damn near did, too. 

“Is that good?” he asked, a little breathless - but not from exertion. 

“So good, Crowley. Your cock feels so good. Is it - ooh - is it good for you?”

Jesus _fuck_ , was it ever good for him. Her cunt was so tight, hot and wet, and he had never felt anything so good. He’d never been buried inside Aziraphale before - the angel always topped - and Crowley was certain that this must be what heaven felt like. In that moment, he never wanted to feel anything else ever again.

But he couldn’t say all that, that would be a blatant violation of the unspoken rules between them. So he just said, “Yeah, angel. You feel so fucking good.”

She locked her ankles around his waist and dug her fingers into his back. “Fuck me, you foul fiend. Fuck me.”

Crowley didn’t have to be told twice. He gradually picked up speed, pistoning himself in and out of her hot cunt, his breath becoming ragged and his eyes never leaving her. She kept her eyes closed for the most part, her mouth open, making little grunting sounds of pleasure. Crowley groaned helplessly and sped up his fucking, their breaths mingling between them. It was nearly perfect, the manifestation of all his wildest fantasies - he just wished she would look into his eyes. 

As if she’d heard him, she opened her blue-grey eyes and looked at him. The force of his thrusts was shaking her whole body, but their eyes remained locked on each other, and Crowley felt something stir in his damned soul. He loved this angel so much, just so fucking much. 

“Harder, please, dear,” Aziraphale whined. “More, please.”

Crowley was little more than a slave to his angel’s desires - there was nothing he’d ever deny Aziraphale, and certainly not now. He sped up the motions of his hips, fucking into her almost wildly, earning little grunts from her with every impact. 

“Oh, yes, Crowley - yes! You’re so good… so good at this… _Fuck!_ ”

Crowley was beyond words. All his concentration was focused down on where he was slamming into her, reveling in the hot clench of her slick walls around him, coming perilously close to orgasm. He didn’t want to go over without her, though - he wanted Aziraphale to come again before he released. 

“Come angel. Come for me, please. Shit!”

She responded with high pitched whimpers and her nails dug into his back, chanting his name over and over. Crowley put a final burst of effort into his taking of her and slid one hand between them to stroke her clit. 

She flew apart at the first touch, and he fucked her through her orgasm, milking her for every drop of pleasure he could get out of her. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open in a scream, her eyes screwed shut, her cunt clenching around his cock. 

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he withdrew his hand and chased his own release, making animalistic sounds of pleasure as he fucked her. 

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley… your cock is so good, I’m so full… come for me, won’t you? Fill me with your come, please, dear, like a good husband. I want it so bad…”

Crowley released with a guttural shout, his soul flying away from his body. He was simply overwhelmed, his vision whited out, and every pulse of his heart made him feel like pleasure was being pulled from every cell of his body. His face was a grimace of ecstacy and he buried his face in her sweet-smelling shoulder, riding out the waves of his orgasm. 

He didn’t realize he’d collapsed on top of her until a little later, when he regained control of his body and came back to his senses. Aziraphale still had her legs wrapped around him, more loosely now, and her fingertips traced lazy patterns on the skin of his back. He shuddered with an aftershock, then pushed himself up on trembling arms. 

“Sorry, I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t be sorry, dear. I was rather enjoying that.”

Despite her words, Crowley was still afraid of overstaying his welcome and pulled his still-hard cock out of her slowly. They both whimpered from the loss and Crowley collapsed beside her, flat on his back, one arm covering his eyes. It wasn’t what he _wanted_ to do - what he _wanted_ to do was to hold her, to kiss her into oblivion and profess his undying love, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate that, so he refrained. 

Aziraphale used a miracle to pull the duvet over both of them and they both lay there for a while, panting, catching their breath. Crowley had no idea what to say - ‘I love you madly’ was the entirely wrong thing and could ruin everything, but it was all he could think of. He loved her with all his being, and had no idea how long he’d be able to live without telling her (or him). The truth would come out eventually, he knew. He just hoped that inevitable day when he ruined everything was far away. 

“Well, that was a thing,” Aziraphale said, a smile in her voice. 

Crowley raised his arm off of his eyes and turned to look at her. “A good thing?”

Azriaphale turned her face to look at him, a smile lighting her features. “A _very_ good thing. You were magnificent, my dear.”

He gave her a smile he hoped wasn’t too tired. “There’s much more where that came from.”

Her eyes turned sultry, as did her voice. “I’m counting on it.”

He wanted to kiss her _so badly_ and just barely refrained from doing so. He was unable to stop himself from pressing a little kiss to the creamy skin of her bare shoulder, but stopped himself there.

“So what do _you_ think of having a woman’s body? Still weird?”

Aziraphale closed her eyes and hummed. “Yes, it still feels very different from my normal body, but it certainly has its perks. Sex is very different this way.”

“Yes, it is,” Crowley agreed, gazing nakedly at her profile. “I always enjoyed sex as a woman. Do you prefer it this way?”

She seemed to be thinking. “No, I don’t think I _prefer_ it, exactly, but it certainly won’t he a hardship to have sex as a woman over the next few weeks. And perhaps sometime in the future.”

Crowley beamed. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

She gave him a look that was almost sharp. “Do you prefer it this way over when I’m in my male corporation?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I like you both ways. But I admit, I’m looking forward to playing with you in this form as long as you’ll let me.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Wily serpent.”

“I try.”

She rolled to her side, turning to face him, and trailed one fingertip up his arm idly, her eyes watching it. Crowley’s cock, which had softened from disuse, twitched eagerly at the touch, and he did his best to keep gooseflesh from erupting at her touch. 

“You know,” she started, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“What do I know?”

“You and I don’t require sleep the way the humans do.”

“That’s true.”

Her finger made a little spiral on his chest. “So we have all these nighttime hours to fill, while they sleep.”

Crowley grinned, catching on to what she was suggesting. “Yes, we do. But I figured you’d read.”

“And I may do so on some nights. But I think I might find the idea of sleeping with my husband to be preferable. Or perhaps I should say fucking him.”

Crowley was so thrilled he almost couldn’t bear it. In all their time together, in the dozens of times they’d had sex, one or the other of them always left very quickly after they finished. Crowley had wasted hours and hours daydreaming about spending whole nights with Aziraphale, being held, petted, and kissed. Feeling loved, and showing that love in return. It was a foolish daydream, he always chided himself, but still he harbored the dream that one day, he could hold Aziraphale all night - that neither of them would get up and leave after. Now it seemed he was going to get at least part of his wish. She wasn’t offering to let him hold her, but it was _something_. It would be enough.

Hoping to play it cool, he said, “Well, your husband would certainly find that preferable. But why limit ourselves to the night time hours? I dare say we could find ways and means to have sex anytime - if we’re a bit sneaky.”

Her eyes twinkled. “You’d know all about being sneaky as a demon, wouldn’t you?”

Crowley leaned forward and started pressing kisses to her chest, along her collarbones. “It is one of my specialities.”

Aziraphale rolled onto her back, grabbing Crowley and taking him with her, so he was partially covering her. She smiled radiantly up at him and he loved her so desperately he feared he may die of it.

“Well, I suppose I should just let you teach me how to be sneaky then, shouldn’t I?”

Crowley didn’t answer. He just covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply.

~*~O~*~

Twenty four glorious, sex-filled days later, Crowley and Aziraphale bid farewell to thier host and bundled into Crowley’s coach. They were the last guests to leave, but did so with their missions completed. Crowley had tempted the Duke into extreme greed, but Aziraphale had thwarted him most effectively, using her new friendship with the Duchess. Civil war was averted and they could go on about their lives peacefully. 

Crowley stared out of the window and reflected on the last few weeks. It had been heaven, pretending to be married to Aziraphale, and he had taken full advantage. They’d had sex multiple times a night, until both of them were limp with exhaustion, then Aziraphale had read until Martha came to ‘wake’ them. The daytime hours had seen them sneaking off into deserted rooms occasionally, whenever one or the other took the notion. He’d had her in the library (twice), in one of the drawing rooms, over the dining room table, in the garden (three times), and he’d even flipped up her skirt in a secluded corner of a ballroom during an evening’s entertainment - careful to use a miracle to ensure they’d be left alone and no sound would escape. Aziraphale tended to be rather loud, Crowley thought with a wry grin. 

“What are you smiling at?” she asked from beside him. 

He shrugged, his smile growing a bit. “Just reflecting on the last three weeks or so.”

“Yes, they were rather fun, weren’t they? We should do this again sometime.”

Crowley’s heart leapt. “You’ll hear no argument from me.”

They rode in silence for a while, and Crowley went back to his happy memories of the last few weeks, careful not to get an erection. It wasn’t easy, though, when he was lost in a memory of burying himself under Aziraphale’s voluminous skirts, hiding there, and devouring her cunt while the other party goers had played pall mall on the other side of the hedge. 

“Do you think we’re far enough away?” she asked, peering out of the windows and breaking into Crowley’s erotic thoughts.

“Far enough away for what?”

“For me to change back.”

“Oh,” Crowley said with a stab of disappointment. It wasn’t that he would be sad to get Aziraphale’s male corporation back, not at all. He just knew that her changing back would mark the end of their little charade - that it would all be over. “I suppose so.”

“Mind your eyes, dear.”

He didn’t look away when Aziraphale raised her hand and made a downward motion, snapping her fingers. There was a blinding flash of light, and Crowley flinched involuntarily. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone and he was there, looking just as gorgeous as he always did. Despite his disappointment, Crowley was glad to see him. 

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, thank you, dear boy.” Aziraphale wiggled a bit in his seat, as if testing his body, then smiled. “Yes, I believe everything is back in its proper place.”

“Did you miss being a man so much?”

“In a way, yes. Being a woman is lovely and I certainly had fun, but I do rather hate being talked down to, and gossip gets wearing after a while. I never feel exactly _right_ as a woman. There’s always something a little...off.”

“Perhaps you just miss having a cock,” Crowley suggested, giving a roguish smile he didn’t exactly feel at the moment, now that their charade was over. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips at him, but it didn’t hide his smile. “Perhaps so.”

“I’m just kidding with you, angel. I know what you mean. I feel the same way whenever I’m in a woman’s body. There are wonderful things about it, but being talked down to is shit. It’s convenient sometimes, and fun, but not what I’m meant to be.”

“Quite so.”

They lapsed back into silence as they trundled along the road, back towards London. Crowley tried not to be disappointed that their ‘marriage’ was over, but couldn’t help himself. He felt more than a little like sulking. Perhaps it was time for an extended nap.

“So what will you do when we get back to town?” Aziraphale asked politely.

Crowley shrugged. “I don’t know. Tempt people, make trouble. There will be a ton of paperwork about this temptation, and I’ll have to explain myself to Beezlebub, but it won’t be so bad. They’ll threaten to reassign me but won’t do it. The usual. How about you?”

“Oh, back to the bookshop with me, I suppose. And whatever work the Home Office sends my way.”

Crowley gave a noncommittal hum and looked back out the window. A minute later, he was surprised when he felt a gentle hand land on his thigh. He looked down at it dumbly, then up at Aziraphale, who was gazing at him with soft blue-grey eyes.

“I really did enjoy the last three weeks, Crowley. And as long as we can keep our Home Offices from finding out we’re working together, I’d like to keep doing so.”

It was much less than Crowley wanted. He wanted to be able to spend time with Aziraphale openly, with no fear of retribution. But he knew that wasn’t possible, and whatever Aziraphale was offering him was the best he could hope for. 

He smiled at the angel tightly. “I’d like to keep the arrangement, too.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks heated a bit and his eyes darted away. “And, if you’re not opposed, perhaps we could maintain the spirit of our other arrangement, too. Perhaps we could have… rendezvous frequently. Say, once a week or so, whenever we’re in the same town together? That is, provided you haven’t had your fill of me.”

Crowley could never get his fill of Aziraphale, and knew it. He also knew that he couldn’t say so - and that an offer of weekly sex was a huge step in the direction he wanted to go. So he smiled brightly. “I’d very much like to continue fucking you, angel.”

“Excellent!” Aziraphale said, and removed his hand from Crowley’s leg. “That’s excellent news, indeed.”

~*~O~*~

London, 1862

Crowley stomped into his luxurious flat, flinging his hat and walking stick aside carelessly. He’d rarely been so angry - honestly, he couldn’t _remember_ the last time he’d been so angry. He’d thought that he and Aziraphale were friends, at minimum. They’d known each other for six millenia and had had the arrangement for the last thousand years or so. They’d been sleeping together almost as long, and in the last forty years, they’d had sex multiple times per month, nearly every month. It had never been making love - _could_ never be making love - but Crowley felt he could be forgiven for thinking that he and the angel were _at least_ friends with each other. Yet Aziraphale had described them as merely _fraternizing_. Fraternizing! It made his blood boil. 

_Fraternizing._ After nearly six thousand years, the angel had the audacity to call what they did _fraternizing._ Crowley had almost let himself start to believe, over the last several decades of regular interactions with Aziraphale - _close_ interactions in which they had sex - that Aziraphale might actually care for him. He’d deluded himself into believing that this ethereal creature might feel something for him, a demon. Not love, never love, but _something_. But apparently, while Crowley had been pouring his heart and soul into those moments together, Aziraphale had simply been _fraternizing_. 

Pain battered the edges of his mind, threatening to drive out the anger, and Crowley felt tears threaten. _Fraternizing._

Fuck this. He didn’t want to deal with this shit right now - and frankly, didn’t feel up to it. He hadn’t had a decent sleep in ages. He’d been staying awake so he could be available for his and Aziraphale’s frequent rendezvous. He’d thought they _meant_ something. Evidently, he’d been wrong. 

In a huff, Crowley sealed his flat, preserving it so no humans would wander in and wake him before he was ready. Then he stomped to his bedroom, miracled himself out of his formal attire and into bedclothes, got into the bed, and slept until Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, triggering the Great War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is ohstars amazing art for this chapter! Zira is even more lovely than I imagined! 


	5. London, 1942ad

The ride from the bombed church to Soho was silent, but pregnant with things left unsaid. Aziraphale sat on the passenger seat, the satchel of books in his lap, both hands gripping the handle tight, his posture rigid and his eyes straight ahead. Crowley had hoped that after not seeing him for decades, Aziraphale might show a bit of happiness about seeing him again. He’d hoped for a joyful reunion after the danger of the Nazis had passed. He had rehearsed what he’d say to the angel a thousand times, imagining all sorts of different conversations they’d have. He’d imagined every sort of reaction to his presence from Aziraphale, and planned his own reaction in turn. He’d be cool, aloof. He’d never let on how his dreams during his fifty-year sleep had been haunted by the angel. He’d never reveal that almost immediately after waking, he’d hunted down the angel to make sure he was safe during the Great War. He’d keep the fact that he’d watched over Aziraphale from a distance to himself, never revealing that he’d been acting like a fucking guardian angel while he tried to go about his business of tempting humans and making trouble. He’d never reveal that he’d been quietly looking after his angel - this creature that he loved - for nearly thirty years. No, Crowley would keep all of that to himself. 

He hadn’t intended to reveal himself when he did, in the church a few minutes ago. It had been his plan to remain hidden until he had no choice and absolutely _had_ to reveal himself. And he supposed, in fairness, he had. He just hadn’t expected that time to come so soon. Yet when Crowley discovered that Aziraphale had fallen into a Nazi trap he’d known he had no choice. Discorporation was inconvenient and painful, but a temporary annoyance. Crowley certainly didn't want his angel to be hurt or inconvenienced, but out of his own self-interest (and wounded pride), he may have still stayed hidden if it had only been the threat of discorporation to Aziraphale. But he knew all too well that Heaven would be furious if the Nazis really had gotten those books of prophecies, and Aziraphale might very well have been reassigned, given a desk job in Heaven. Away from Crowley. Never to be seen. _That_ was an absolutely unacceptable thought, so Crowley had sprung into action to save his angel, get him out of the mess he’d landed himself in. 

Crowley moved his feet to apply the brake and hissed a breath, wincing. The pain in his feet was extreme and he knew it would be ages before they healed. He had healing powers as a demon, sure, but an injury inflicted by holiness was beyond his capabilities. Still, it was worth it, since it meant Aziraphale wouldn’t be taken away from him and reassigned. He’d endure the pain, and gladly, just to know that Aziraphale would be near. Even if the pain of their argument was too raw and Crowley wasn’t ready to spend a great deal of time with him yet. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced over at Aziraphale. The angel still hadn’t moved, was still as a statue and staring straight ahead, his jaw set. Crowley clenched his own jaw and squeezed the steering wheel in his hands. Fine. It was fine. If Aziraphale didn’t want to talk, they didn’t have to --

“Where have you been?”

The words were so quiet, Crowley thought for a moment that he’d imagined them. A glance over at the angel revealed that he hadn’t moved, was still clutching the satchel and looking through the windscreen. He was so still, Crowley began to wonder if it had been his imagination. So he asked. 

“Did you say something?”

Aziraphale didn't move a muscle, but answered. “I asked you where you’ve been for the last seventy-nine years.”

“Around.”

The angel bowed his head a little, looking at his hands. “I had hoped you would come to see me.”

Crowley gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Yeah, well, I had shit to do.”

Aziraphale gave a little nod, as if accepting this, then sniffed and looked up and out of the windscreen again. 

He cleared his throat after a little while. “How did you find me?”

Crowley shrugged. “Been working with British agents as a spy.”

Aziraphale turned to look at him then, his eyes wide. “A spy?”

“Yes. I started working for them about ten years ago, when the Nazis really started gaining power in Germany. I suspected they may be trouble.”

The angel pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I suppose it was foolish of me to think you were working _with_ the Nazis. I should know you better than that, after all these years.”

It wasn’t an apology, but then Crowley didn’t expect an apology. Not from an angel. Not to a demon. He just hummed an acknowledgement of what hadn’t been said, knowing Aziraphale would understand perfectly.

Aziraphale turned back to him and gave a small smile. “Do you like it? Spy work, that is.”

Crowley shrugged again. “It’s alright. Keeps me busy, at least.”

“I imagine it must be terribly exciting.”

He darted a look over at the angel. “Is that why you got yourself mixed up with Glozier and Harmony?”

Aziraphale ducked his head, looking sheepish. “I - I suppose so. They approached me, looking to acquire certain books of prophecy. I suspected what they were and ran to the security service, to Rose Montgomery. She was supposed to help me stay out of trouble. And it _was_ fun, playing spy. I very much enjoyed the double dealing - well, right up until the moment I realized that I’d been duped,” he said sadly. 

Crowley had been angry with Aziraphale for years - since 1862 - but he couldn’t bear the down note in his voice and, against his own will, rushed to reassure him. 

“You had no way of knowing, angel. Montgomery was a very effective spy - we didn’t know about her until recently. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Aziraphale gave him a small but warm smile. “You’re too kind, dear.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No, really. Everything you’ve done… I’m in your debt, Crowley. Or should I call you Anthony?”

“Call me what you’ve always called me.”

“Crowley it is, then. How did you come up with Anthony, though?”

“I just liked it. Thought it sounded right with Crowley, so that’s what I picked.”

“Well, the more I think about it, the more I believe it suits you.”

“Glad you approve.”

Crowley moved his foot again to apply the brake and winced. The pain in his feet was exquisite, and he tried not to whimper. 

Aziraphale noticed anyway. “What’s wrong, my dear?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re in pain, I can tell. Were you hurt in the bombing?”

“No, your miracle protected me, remember? I’m fine, angel.”

“Crowley, I’m not going to leave this alone until you tell me what’s wrong. We both know I can be quite persistent. Now, tell me what hurt you.”

The demon ground his teeth and clenched the wheel again. The _last_ thing he wanted from Aziraphale was pity. The absolute _last_ thing. 

“Crowley…”

“The church was consecrated ground, alright? My feet - it burned my feet.”

Aziraphale was struck dumb for a second, processing this. Finally, he said, “Why don’t you heal them?”

“Because demons can’t heal holy wounds.”

They rode in silence a bit longer, and Crowley regretted telling the truth. Not that he could ever lie to the angel, but maybe he should have tried. 

After a while, Aziraphale offered, “Maybe I could help.”

“There’s no need. I’m fine. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I hate to think of you hurting, dear.”

“It’ll pass.”

“Yes, it will, because I am going to heal you as soon as we get back to the bookshop.”

Crowley had had no intention of sticking around the shop after he saw Aziraphale home. He’d planned to drop off the angel and disappear back into obscurity, where he could continue to lick his metaphorical (and now literal) wounds in private. Even after almost eighty years, his feelings were still raw, too vulnerable to spend much time with this angel he loved so much. Additional time with Aziraphale would be a temptation that Crowley wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist. As it was, sitting in his car, he desperately wanted to hold the angel, to touch him and kiss him, to make him fall apart - to show him love in the only way he felt he could. But that wasn’t welcomed, and Crowley knew it. The best way he could show his love would be by disappearing and leaving Aziraphale completely alone.

But fuck, how he wanted to accept the invitation, to bask in the angel’s presence even for a little while. Just one touch - he could live off of it for the next thousand years. 

He didn’t say anything, and the remainder of the car ride to Soho was silent. 

When they arrived, Crowley pulled his Bentley into a miraculously open parking space right in front of Aziraphale’s door and stopped the car. 

“Well,” he started utterly at war within himself. “It was good to see you, angel. Glad you’re alright.”

Aziraphale paused with his hand on the door. “You aren’t coming in?”

“Nah,” Crowley said, trying for nonchalance. “I’ve got some time off coming and some liniment. I’ll just go back to my flat and take care of it. There’s no need to worry yourself.”

The angel pursed his lips, his brow furrowed, then raised his hands and snapped his fingers. At once, Crowley found himself on the sofa in the back of Aziraphale’s shop, without his sunglasses.

“Angel, what the hell?” he squawked.

“Pipe down. You’re fine.”

“But my car --”

“Turned off and parked. Perfectly safe.”

“And my glasses?”

“I prefer to see your eyes. Now just wait a minute. I’ll deposit these books and be right back.”

Aziraphale bustled from the room, leaving Crowley to sit in the low lamplight, stewing. This was _not_ what he’d planned on. Honestly, he should just snap his own fingers and miracle himself back into his car, or better yet, his flat. He really should. But the temptation of spending some time with the angel…

Crowley stayed. 

Just a couple of moments later, Aziraphale came bustling back into the back room with a tub of water. His jacket was gone and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms dusted with white-blond hair. 

“You don’t have to do this, angel…”

“Hush, Crowley. You injured yourself coming to save me. The least I can do is tend to your wounds.”

Crowley had never been so torn: on one hand, he wanted to stay, to be close to the angel, to bask in the presence he’d been longing for - and denying himself - since the 1860’s. On the other hand, he knew that staying was a dreadful idea, possibly the dumbest idea he’d ever had. His anger at Aziraphale had carried him for the last eighty years. It had driven him to keep hidden, out of sight. He should let it do the same now, ushering him from the angel’s presence and back into solitude. 

Alarmingly, he felt that anger melting away as he watched Aziraphale shuffle around, gathering the materials he needed. Without the mantle of righteous indignation cloaking him the way it had for the last eighty years, Crowley felt terribly vulnerable. 

He didn't have to think about it anymore before Aziraphale came to a stop in front of him, basin in hand, and bent to put the water at Crowley’s feet. Crowley watched him carefully, taking in the quick motions as Aziraphale rolled his sleeves up higher and arranged things just so, then sank to his knees before Crowley. 

Crowley swallowed hard.

Aziraphale crouched on his heels, not looking up at Crowley, and he was glad for that small blessing. If Aziraphale looked into his eyes right now, there’d be no hiding the naked emotions Crowley was feeling. Silently, he prayed for Aziraphale to keep his eyes downcast.

The angel reached up and started rolling up Crowley’s trousers, exposing his legs. Crowley just watched silently as he worked, trembling slightly, nearly undone by the soft touches of Aziraphale’s hand on his skin. _Relax_ he told himself. _Play it cool. Let him heal you, then leave_.

Crowley nodded to himself, resolved. That’s what he’d do. He could handle this, no problem. Just let the angel heal him and go home. No sweat.

Aziraphale’s fingers seemed to be touching him more than was entirely necessary, though, his fingertips trailing along Crowley’s heated skin. Just when he was afraid he was about to implode - or miracle himself away - Aziraphale started working on the laces of his shoes. 

“I can do that,” Crowley did not squawk, definitely _did not_ squawk.

“Nonsense. Let me serve you, my dear.”

Aziraphale removed first the right shoe, then the left, using gentle, soft motions that Crowley felt utterly undeserving of. He never looked up at Crowley, but Crowley never took his eyes off the angel. 

Slowly, almost reverently, Aziraphale peeled off Crowley’s socks. The fabric sticking to his wounds was painful, but Crowley didn't cry out. He didn’t dare make a sound, afraid that if he did, the spell might break. 

Once his socks were gone, Aziraphale lifted his feet to look at the bottom of them. His blond eyebrows furrowed and his face screwed up, as if pained by what he was seeing. “My dear, my poor dear…”

“That bad, is it?”

Aziraphale was still looking at them, and Crowley thought his eyes were shining a bit, “You did this to yourself - for me,” he marveled quietly. 

It sprung to Crowley’s dry lips to say ‘I’d do anything for you, angel’, but he managed to refrain. He had no idea what to say, but it seemed Azirapale was waiting for a response. So he said, “You were in danger and I had the power to help you. It was no big deal.”

“It _was_ a big deal,” Aziraphale argued, finally looking up and into Crowley’s eyes. “It was a big deal to me.”

Crowley just swallowed, but nodded silently, trapped in the angel’s gaze. 

Aziraphale bent back to Crowley’s feet, lowering the left one into his lap, then lifting the right one to examine. He traced his fingers down the blistered and broken skin, murmuring something Crowley couldn’t hear, and he felt the pain lessen in the areas where he’d just been touched. Aziraphale did it again, and again, until Crowley’s foot felt normal. Then, much to Crowley’s shock, Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the newly-healed sole of Crowley’s foot. After the gentle kiss, he gently, almost lovingly, placed it in the warm water.

“It wasn’t for me,” Crowley said in a rush, his mouth working independent of his brain. 

Aziraphale didn’t look up from where he was tenderly lifting Crowley’s left foot to heal it. “What wasn’t, dear?”

“The holy water. I had no intention of using it on myself - I still don’t. I only thought if Hell found out we’d been …fraternizing…” His jaw clenched at the word. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice. He was healing Crowley’s foot. “They’d destroy you.”

“Yes, I know. I wanted the holy water to be able to take as many of them as I could down with me, if it came to that.”

The angel paused in his healing and looked up at Crowley. “And I denied you.”

“Yes.”

“You simply wanted to protect yourself.”

“Yes. That’s all.”

“And I refused you. Left you vulnerable. No wonder you disappeared for eighty years.”

That wasn’t at all why he’d disappeared for eighty years, but he couldn’t give the real reason. Not now.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, my dear. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did. It was wrong of me. But I still can’t give you the holy water. Do you understand why? It’s because one tiny mishap - just one - and that water would destroy you. You’d be lost forever, your existince utterly wiped out and I can’t… I don’t think I could bear that.”

“At least you’d no longer be _fraternizing_ ,” Crowley snarled, almost in self defense against Aziraphale’s kind tone.

Aziraphale blinked at him. “I like fraternizing with you,” he said simply, and a little of Crowley's long-held anger melted away. 

The silence stretched like warm taffy and Crowley just stared into Aziraphale’s ocean eyes. The angel’s eyes filled, glistening with tears, then one spilled over. He wiped it away hurriedly, then raised Crowley’s foot and started working again. 

Just as he had before, when he was done healing Crowley’s foot, he pressed a kiss to the sole and placed it gently in the warm water. Crowley didn’t say anything, his mind a jumble, he just watched as the angel reached over and grabbed a bar of soap and washcloth and went to work washing his feet. 

“Angel…”

Aziraphale didn’t look up. He used the cloth to gently clean each foot, paying more attention to getting them clean than Crowley certainly ever had. He was reminded powerfully of the ritual of washing one’s feet, thousands of years ago in Mesopotamia, persisting until biblical times. To wash someone’s feet was to make yourself subservient to them, to seek to please them, to lower yourself. 

Bloody hell, was that what Aziraphale was doing?

“Angel, please…”

The angel didn’t answer. He removed Crowley's feet from the water and miracled up a towel, soft and fluffy, wrapping them around the feet in his lap. He patted them dry, rubbing them gently, and Crowley felt his body responding. His hands were clenched around the arm of the sofa and a pillow, and his cock, his traitorous cock, was starting to rise. 

“I missed you,” Aziraphale said softly, almost too softly to hear. “I missed you so much. Every day, something would remind me of you, and I’d miss you. I thought of trying to find you - I must have decided to come find you a thousand times - but I’m such a coward. I was afraid you’d turn me away. I told myself that if you wanted to see me, you’d come... but you never came.”

Crowley struggled to think of what to say. He’d missed the angel like an ache, and nothing had been able to fill the void left by Aziraphale. Nothing had even come close. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were still averted. “I understand if you’re still angry, especially given that I still won’t give you the holy water. But please, Crowley,” he looked up then. “Please don’t stay away so long again? I won’t ask you to resume the arrangement we had after Kent, but perhaps you could drop by the shop every now and then? Say hello?”

He caved immediately. “Yeah, angel. Maybe I can come around every now and then.”

The angel smiled, looking relieved. “Excellent. That’s very good. Perhaps we could even still work with each other sometimes?”

Crowley just nodded dumbly. Anything - _anything_ the angel wanted. “Sometimes,” he agreed.

Aziraphale _beamed_ , and Crowley was sure there was a faint glow around the angel. It confused him - Azraphale had spent nearly the entirety of the last six thousand years denying that they were friends. Why would he be glad to resume their arrangement? He should have been glad to be rid of Crowley. It didn’t make sense.

He didn’t get long to think about it before the angel’s hands were stroking and massaging his calves. Crowley didn’t know if the touch was _supposed_ to be erotic, but his body was certainly taking it as such. His cock grew and stiffened in his trousers against his will. An erection now would ruin everything, all the ground he’d just made up with Aziraphale. He ground his teeth, trying to get a hold on himself, praying Aziraphale wouldn’t notice. 

The angel continued his gentle touch, setting Crowley’s senses on fire. He could leave now, he knew; he had saved Aziraphale, his feet were healed, and they’d come to an agreement. There was no reason to stay. He could go - and he _should_ go. 

But he'd spent the last eighty years positively _starved_ for the attention and affections of the angel - attention and affections Aziraphale was currently giving out so freely. How could he be expected to leave?

Aziraphale’s hands inched higher on his legs, and Crowley’s traitorous cock grew harder. 

“I missed you,” the angel said quietly, not looking up at Crowley. Crowley couldn’t look away. 

“I - I missed you too, angel,” he managed.

Aziraphale looked up at him from below his lashes, almost demure, looking very much like he had in 1832 at the Duke of Strawbridge’s house party. It was a look Crowley was wholly unused to seeing - and it left him feeling more than a little drunk. Adding to his feeling of intoxication was Aziraphale’s hand inching up his thigh, towards the tent in his trousers. 

“Let me show you?” Aziraphale asked, his fingers just shy of Crowley’s cock, and the demon could hardly breathe. His grip on the arm of the chair tightened until he heard the wood crack. 

He nodded down at Aziraphale, his eyes wide, his mouth slack, giving the angel permission for whatever he wanted to do. 

Aziraphale smiled up at him, his face radiant, and his hands set to work on Crowley’s belt. Crowley spread his legs to make room for Aziraphale to situate himself between them, kicking the towels away. With a careless miracle, Aziraphale got rid of the basin entirely, then set back to work on Crowley’s trousers. Crowley’s breath was coming in ragged pants, the anticipation building. Every movement of Aziraphale’s hands brushed against his eager cock, and he was near to bursting already. 

Finally, Crowley’s trousers were unbuttoned and Aziraphale grabbed them and pulled them down onto Crowley’s thighs, letting his cock spring free. It was hard, so hard it was aching, the head flushed purple and leaking. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s every move as he grabbed the cock, wrapping his hand around and pumping gently. 

“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice hushed.

Crowley just nodded, unable to speak. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were boring into Crowley’s. “Do you want this? Do you want me this way?”

He nodded again, eyes still wide, and managed a single word. “Please.”

The angel bent his downy head, took Crowley’s cock into his mouth, and Crowley’s world exploded with sensation. Aziraphale’s mouth was hot, wet, and soft - the best thing Crowley had ever felt. He groaned loudly, a broken sound from deep in his chest, and rocked his head back onto the couch, his eyes closed. He’d waited eighty years to feel this again, and suddenly, he couldn’t remember the reasons he’d denied himself so long. 

But the past didn’t matter, all that mattered was Aziraphale’s hot mouth, sucking his cock like a man starving. Crowley closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the feel of the angel sucking him off - the curl of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the occasional, gentle scrape of teeth. It was all good - so good, and he’d needed this. How had he ever lived without it?

Aziraphale’s hands were busy, either pumping him in time to the strokes of his mouth or fondling Crowley’s bollocks or running up and down Crowley’s torso. The slurping sounds of suction were erotic, fueling the fire in Crowley’s blood, but the sounds that _really_ drove him higher were the little moaning sounds of pleasure he made as he sucked Crowley - the same sounds he so frequently made while enjoying a delicous meal. Crowley would never be able to eat with Aziraphale again without getting aroused, he knew. 

He felt a hand on his and realized that Aziraphale was attempting to get his attention. He raised his head from the back of the couch and watched Aziraphale pleasure him, and went along with it when the angel took his hand and placed it on his head. Crowley groaned, threading his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, gripping lightly. Aziraphale made a purring sound of approval, and Crowley brought up his other hand, fisting the curls. Gently, so gently, he guided Aziraphale’s head, careful not to be too demanding. 

After a few moments, when Crowley was beginning to feel his orgasm creeping up on him, Aziraphale pulled off and looked up at Crowley, his lips puffy and shiny with spit, his eyes earnest. 

“Talk to me, darling. Tell me how it feels for me to suck you.”

“Al-alright,” Crowley agreed. 

“And I want you to come for me. Will you, dear? Will you come down my throat?”

“ _Jesus_ , angel…”

“Oh, please, Crowley. Let me taste you. Please.”

Crowley was completely blown away by the begging. Aziraphale had _never_ begged him, had always maintained tight control over himself, and now he was on his knees, pleading for Crowley’s come? The mind boggled. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come.”

Aziraphale gave him a brilliant smile, then bent back to Crowley’s cock, taking it into his mouth and sucking greedily. Crowley moaned and swore, nearly overwhelmed before he remembered what Aziraphale wanted him to do. 

“Your mouth feels so good, angel, so hot and perfect… that’s it. Don’t stop.”

It seemed that Aziraphale had no intention of stopping. Crowley’s hands rose and fell with the blond head and his own head rolled back, sensations battering him. He talked to Aziraphale, as requested, earnest praise and filthy encouragement, unable to believe this turn of events as the angel serviced him.

His hands tightened in the downy hair as he got closer to orgasm, and his jaw clenched tight. “Getting close, angel. Gonna come soon. Better pull off…”

Aziraphale did no such thing, in fact, he sucked and licked Crowley more ardently. Crowley moaned brokenly, doing his best not to come yet, to keep control of himself. In the past, Aziraphale had rarely sucked him off, and had almost never let Crowley come in his mouth. But he wasn’t letting up, and Crowley was getting close. 

“Angel, please… I’m so close… it’s too good… I can’t… _fuck_!”

Aziraphale responded by taking Crowley’s cock even deeper, until Crowley could feel himself hitting the back of the angel’s throat. Crowley cried out, his voice ragged. Then Aziraphale _swallowed_ , and that was it. Crowley was lost. 

He came like a fountain, eighty years of repressed desire pouring out of him, making him sob. He wasn't aware of what he was saying as he babbled but couldn’t care. All that mattered was Azirapahle’s hot, wet mouth, and the feel of his throat constricting around him as he swallowed. Crowley begged and pleaded - for what, he didn’t know - while fire raced through his blood. His fists were tight in Aziraphale’s hair, the tendons standing out on his neck, and he came until his body just couldn’t take it anymore. 

When it finally subsided, he was panting, gasping mess, his hands still clenched in the angel’s hair, his breath coming in sharp gasps. When he was able, he opened his eyes to look down at Aziraphale, who was quietly and thoroughly licking his cock clean. Crowley was still hard, painfully so, and Aziraphale seemed to be relishing the task he’d set himself. Crowley watched him for a minute, still in awe, and relaxed his hands in the blonde hair. The angel looked up at him then, blue eyes meeting the yellow, and there was something there that Crowley hadn’t ever seen before. It scared him a little. 

Aziraphale placed one more kiss to the head of his cock, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s, then used Crowley's cock to stroke his own face. Crowley just watched, wide-eyed. 

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

“I’d like you to fuck me.”

The only time he’d ever topped Aziraphale was over a hundred years ago, at the house party. Other than that, the angel had _always_ topped. Crowley wasn’t sure he was hearing correctly. 

“You want to fuck me?”

“I want _you_ to fuck _me_ ,” Aziraphale clarified. “Is that alright?”

Crowley nodded, too mind-blown to form words. 

With his eyes never leaving Crowley’s, Azriaphale raised his hand and snapped his fingers, leaving both of them utterly naked. He smiled up at a still-stunned Crowley and pulled the demon’s hips a little closer to the edge of the sofa. Then he started kissing his way up Crowley’s body, starting with his hip bones. Crowley watched his every move, eyes still wide and his muscles jumping under Aziraphale’s hands and mouth, as he made his way up. Despite his orgasm, Crowley didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused in his entire life. 

Aziraphale finally crawled into Crowley’s lap, straddling him, their cocks rubbing against each other, while he pressed hot, fervent kisses along the demon’s collarbones and neck. Crowley was thankful to finally be able to touch the angel, and his hands roamed, alternately gripping and sliding, but what he wanted in that moment, more than anything, was to kiss him. 

Finally - _finally_ \- Aziraphale captured Crowley’s mouth in a kiss that was nearly wild. Crowley threw himself into the movement of his lips and tongue against Aziraphale’s, glutting himself on the taste of his angel after eighty long years. How had he survived without this? This was better than heaven. This was _everything_.

While they kissed, Aziraphale squirmed and adjusted his position until he had the head of Crowley's cock poised at his entrance. He broke the kiss long enough to ask, “You ready?” When Crowley nodded, he started lowering himself. Crowley gripped the soft globes of his bum, concentrating on just how fucking _good_ it felt, his eyes locked on Aziraphale. The angel had clearly miracled himself open, and Crowley slid home easily. Aziraphale’s arse was tight and hot, slick with miracled lubricant, and Crowley had never felt anything so good. 

“Fuck, angel,” he swore as Aziraphale sank farther down onto him. 

“Is that good?”

Crowley didn’t answer, he just attacked the angel’s mouth, kissing him desperately. Aziraphale ground his hips, circling them, fucking himself on Crowley’s cock, and Crowley growled into the kiss. 

It wasn’t long before Aziraphale was slowly bouncing on his cock, hands clenching Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley did his best to be passive, to let Aziraphale take his pleasure, but he wanted more - _more_. Aziraphale broke the kiss after a while, riding Crowley even more enthusiastically, his head thrown back. Crowley leaned forward and started pressing worshipful kisses to the angel’s soft chest, guiding his motions with hands clenched in his cheeks. 

“Crowley… Crowley… Oh, God!”

Crowley was surprised when Aziraphale erupted, come splattering his belly and chest. He longed to taste his pleasure, to lick up his come, but focused instead of bringing Aziraphale down from his orgasm. He stopped guiding Aziraphale’s hips and stroked his back adoringly. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Aziraphale demanded, his eyes flashing. “Don’t you _dare_ stop fucking me until you come again.”

Crowley didn’t need to be told twice. He clenched Aziraphale’s arse and started fucking him hard and fast, his hips bucking up into the angel. Aziraphale moaned and pleaded for more, and Crowley gave. He gave everything he could. Their bodies made a wet, slapping sound and Crowley grunted with exertion, chasing his release. 

Aziraphale reached between them and gripped his cock, pumping it. “Keep going, please don't stop,” he begged, and Crowley fucked him harder. He was mindess, completely focused on the dance of conquest and retreat his body was engaged in. He could feel himself getting closer, but did his best to keep control of himself. He wanted Aziraphale to come again. 

The angel did so with a strangled cry, his pearly seed spilling and joining his earlier mess. Crowley might have taken a minute to be proud of that, of making Aziraphale come twice, but he was too close to the edge. Aziraphale leaned over, cupped his face, and kissed him, and that was all it took. He came explosively, filling the angel’s arse, his vision whiting out and his mind blanking. He was lost in a sea of bliss, completely adrift in pleasure, and nothing would ever feel as good again. 

Some time later, he came back to his senses, opening his eyes blearily. Aziraphale was still perched on top of him, his mouth open to better accommodate his harsh breaths, and his blue eyes were searching Crowley’s. Crowley did his best to hold nothing back, to show him everything without saying a word, and something deep passed between them. He thought for a moment that Aziraphale was going to say something, but the moment passed. Crowley felt _hope_ , bright, shining hope, and reached up to pull Aziraphale’s face down into a long kiss. 

The kiss didn’t last nearly long enough for Crowley’s taste before Aziraphale was pulling back, raising his body up off of Crowley’s and breaking the connection. Crowley tried not to be hurt as he watched the angel get to his feet. 

No words were spoken, and Crowley didn’t know what to say. All he _wanted_ to say were three little words - and five seconds ago, he’d have believed those words might have been welcome. But now, with Aziraphale’s averted gaze and jerky movements, he wasn’t so sure. 

Once he was on his feet, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the mess on Crowley’s chest was gone. It hurt in ways Crowley couldn’t describe.

“Angel…”

“I suppose it would be bad taste to thank you,” the angel was saying. “But I am grateful.”

He snapped again, and both of them were dressed, down to their shoes. It only added to Crowley’s growing dismay. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Aziraphale.”

“I’m not just thanking you for the sex, although that was very nice. I’m thanking you for coming back after eighty years. For forgiving me for not giving you the holy water.”

He wouldn’t look at Crowley, kept his eyes averted, and that hurt more than anything. All of a sudden, all of the reasons he’d kept himself away came flooding back. This may have meant everything to Crowley, but it meant nothing to Aziraphale; it was simply _fraternizing_. Crowley felt all the old anger he’d harbored for eighty years settling around him, shoring him up. This hadn’t meant anything. It had been a one-off, a scratching of an itch. He should have known. 

Crowley got to his feet. “Yeah, well, as I said, there’s no need to thank me. It was fun. I’ll be going now.”

He started towards the door, hoping to make a quick exit, but Aziraphale called out to him. 

“Crowley, wait!”

Hope sparked in his chest and turned around to look at the angel. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale still looked sheepish. “Don’t go away angry.”

“Just go away, right?”

“No! That’s not what I meant at all!”

Crowley sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “I’m not angry,” he lied. It was wasn’t _entirely_ untrue, he figured. More than anything, he was hurt. 

“I’d... I’d like to do this again. Maybe not the weekly arrangement we had, but…”

Crowley couldn’t give in. He couldn’t. Giving the angel what he was asking for, knowing how desperately in love he was, would only lead him to ruin. 

So he shrugged. “We’ll see, angel. I’m quite busy lately, being a spy and all. But if you need help or want to trade favors or something, I’ll be there.”

Aziraphale looked hopeful. “You will?”

“Of course. Haven’t I always been?”

They didn’t speak, and the air was once again pregnant with things unsaid. Crowley knew the longer he stayed, the more he was in danger of revealing too much. So he tipped his hat. 

“I’ll see you around, angel.”

Azirphale looked defeated. “Yes. See you.”

Crowley turned and walked through the door, into the night, not seeing Aziraphale’s stricken look. He was too immersed in his own misery. 

The next time he saw the angel was in 1967, when he was given holy water. Then they rarely spoke again, until the Antichrist was born.


	6. Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, leaving comments, and clicking that kudos button. It means more to me than I can express. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Rose--Nebula and Lurlur for the beta work, and ohstars for the amazing art. Thank you so much, ladies! 
> 
> And now, the smutty, happy ending. :)

Crowley held out his wineglass for Aziraphale to refill, letting the angel pour until the glass was nearly full, then sat back with it, resuming his sprawl on Aziraphale’s couch. They’d been steadily drinking since lunch at the Ritz, and neither of them really had any intentions to stop anytime soon. The world didn’t know it, but it had been saved yesterday, now heaven and hell were off their backs, and the angel and demon were celebrating happily. 

He wasn’t exactly _drunk_ \- at least, he didn’t think so. He could still feel his face, which he supposed was good, although it had gone a bit tingly. All he really knew was that there were about fifteen bottles scattered around, emptied of their good wine. Maybe he _was_ drunk. He was feeling good, at any rate. Damned good. Judging by Aziraphale’s ruddy cheeks, slouched posture, and slurred words, he was feeling pretty good, too. 

The last eleven years had healed the rift between them - at least mostly. They’d been forced to work together to save the world and that had resulted in the metaphorical burying of the metaphorical hatchet. There had been still-lingering resentment after the church bombing and their evening back in Aziraphale’s shop in 1941, and Crowley had mostly stayed away until he _had_ to see the angel for business purposes. He’d been reluctant to contact Aziraphale at all when the Antichrist had been born, but knew he had no other choice. Working together so closely had made Crowley put aside his anger. Time heals all wounds, he supposed. Wasn’t that how the saying went? He reckoned it must be true, in this case. 

He’d known perfectly well that if he were to spend any amount of time around Aziraphale, he’d end up forgiving the angel. And he’d been right: without ever even telling Aziraphale why he’d been so hurt and angry, he’d forgiven everything. Hell, he’d even forgiven the angel for the scene at the bandstand, for denying their friendship and ending whatever... relationship he’d thought they’d had. He’d forgiven him for breaking his heart yet again when he’d asked the angel to run away to Alpha Centauri. Honestly, it was more than a little pathetic how quickly he’d forgiven Aziraphale, without even any apology. He should probably be ashamed of himself, but couldn’t bring himself to care much. Maybe one day, he’d look back on those events and be somewhat angry, but he doubted it. 

Aziraphale drained his glass and went to pour another, only to discover that the bottle was empty. He made a little moue at it, as if wanting to ask how it could betray him so, and Crowley didn’t try to hide his amusement. Honestly, the angel was so fucking cute. When the bottle didn’t magically refill, Aziraphale tossed it to the side and miracled another one into his hand. His face brightened comically at the sight of the full bottle, and Crowley huffed a laugh. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind, and simply set about opening the new bottle with his tongue between his teeth. Crowley felt his heart swell with affection. 

Hopeless. He was utterly hopeless.

Aziraphale finally got the bottle open and poured himself another nearly full glass. Crowley drained his, then leaned forward to let Aziraphale refill it again. Once his glass was almost brimming, he settled back into the couch in a comfortable sprawl with a lopsided smile on his face. Aziraphale hiccuped and Crowley smiled brighter. 

“Amazing creatures, aren’t they? Humans,” Aziraphale clarified, his words slurred. 

“I’ve always thought so,” Crowley agreed.

“They come up with the most clev - _hic_ \- clever ideas. Like socks!”

“Socks?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, socks. How lovely an idea!”

“What’s so… what’s so lovely about _socks_?”

The angel raised his feet into the air, looking at them fondly, and Crowley imagined he was likely wiggling his toes inside his shoes. “They’re like a little jumper for your feet. So very cozy. And they come in all sorts of delightful pa… pat… _patterns_. Why, did you know, you can even order socks now that have someone’s face on them! It’s true!”

“Where the hell did you see socks with someone’s face on them?” Crowley asked, terribly amused (and a little amazed).

“Oh, on that contraption you made me get. The lap thing.” He waved dismissively towards the desk. “You know, with the infranet.”

“Since when do you look at the internet, angel?”

“Since always. Well, at least, since you made me buy the lap thing. It’s very handy for getting news and shopping for books. I enjoy it much more than I thought I would. Especially considering it’s one of _your_ inventions,” he added with twinkling eyes. 

Crowley held up both hands in a gesture of innocence. “Not me. I only took the credit.”

“Typical demon,” Aziraphale said, but his tone was fond. Crowley grinned at him, then hiccuped, breaking the moment. Aziraphale giggled. 

“I’ll tell you what else humans have done that’s clever,” he said. 

“More clever than socks with people’s faces on?”

“Cheeky. No. I was thinking of space heaters.”

Crowley threw back his head and laughed. “Space heaters? Where the hell did _that_ come from?”

“They’re quite handy, you know. I’ve got one that I hook up - _hic_ \- hook up here in the back room when it’s chilly so I can read.”

“You’re an _angel_ , angel. You can regulate your body temperature. You don’t need to use space heaters.”

“I don’t, but I still find them cozy. Don’t you?”

Crowley didn’t answer, not wanting to reveal that he had employed space heaters from time to time during cold nights. It was part of his more snakey nature that he was often cold. But he knew Aziraphale would just look smug if he admitted to that, so he kept it to himself. 

“What else have humans done that’s worthy of praise?” he asked instead, changing the subject.

Aziraphale looked to be pondering for a minute. “I think I’d have to say… scones.”

“Well, yes, I’d have to agree.”

“Do you? You always take two bites then pass your uneaten part over to - _hic_ \- over to me. I had no idea you liked them.”

“I’d rather watch you eat them,” Crowley said without thinking, then immediately wanted to slap his hand over his mouth. Wildly, he thought of putting his sunglasses back on, to hide his eyes, and he sent a quick prayer that Aziraphale wouldn’t notice his slip up. 

It was a prayer that went unheard. Aziraphale got a pleased look on his face and flushed a little. “Oh, really?”

Crowley scrambled to cover himself. “You know what else is pretty great? Swimming pools. All the fun of playing in the water, but no slimy creatures to contend with.”

“Do you know, I’ve never been swimming in a pool?”

“Really? Well, perhaps we should go sometime. Provided you can stand to put on a bathing costume.”

“I’ll have you know I own _two_ bathing costumes.”

Crowley took a swig of his wine and grinned. “Bet they’re not from the last seventy five years, though,” he teased.

Aziraphale sniffed into his wine and Crowley smirked. Seemed he’d hit the mark. Although, to be fair, he didn’t give a rat’s fart what century Aziraphale’s clothes were from. He loved him to distraction regardless. 

He nearly smacked himself for the thought. Perhaps he was drunker than he thought.

“Slushees!” Aziraphale said suddenly, breaking into Crowley’s thoughts.

“Slushees?”

“Yes! They’re wonderful on a hot day, don’t you agree? I especially like cherry, although it turns my mouth red.”

“I’ve never had a slushee.”

“Well, I simply insist that you allow me to introduce you to this cul… culinary delight.”

Crowley grinned. “Alright, angel. You can take me for slushees.”

Aziraphale gave a little wiggle of delight, and it made Crowley’s heart smile. He did so love seeing his angel happy. Fuck, he just loved him so fucking much. 

He took a long swallow of his wine. 

“Do you know, I just noticed something,” Aziraphale said, a pondering look on his face. 

Crowley smacked his lips a little, relishing the wine. “What have you noticed, angel?”

“All these human delights we’ve been talking about all start with S.”

The demon grinned. “Trying to get me to hisssss, Aziraphale?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I wouldn't be opposed. Is it working?”

“I’m not quite that drunk.”

“Pity.”

Crowley took another sip of his wine. “So we’re going with a theme here?”

“What - _hic_ \- what theme?”

“Nifty human inventions that start with S.”

“Oh! Yes. That’s a good theme for the evening, I think.”

“Well, what are some others?”

Aziraphale pondered a moment. Then he said, “Skateboards.”

Crowley barked a laugh, and Aziraphale looked pleased with himself. 

“Skateboards. That’s a good one. I’d pay good money to see you on a skateboard, angel, doing a kickflip.”

Aziraphale took a sip of his wine, then said, “Go on. Your turn.”

“My turn? Alright. How about… satellite TV?”

“Oh, very good. What about… salt shakers? And pepper pots too, of course.”

“Of course. What about sangria?”

Aziraphale hummed. “Mmm. Sangria. Along those lines, I’ll say soup.”

“And sandwiches!”

The angel chuckled. “Yes, it was a good day when sandwiches were invented. How about… sex?”

Crowley’s brain screeched to a halt and he felt his face go slack, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping a little. The entire world seemed to freeze, and he took in Aziraphale’s pleased face. Once he was able to think again, he gave a short laugh.

“Don’t you think that was invented by the Creator?”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said happily, “it was _definitely_ invented by humans. There is no sex in heaven, as you well know. Besides, we were _there_ when they invented sex.”

“I suppose that’s true…”

“The more I think about it, the more I think that’s the greatest of mankind’s inventions. Sexual congress.”

“Don’t call it sexual congress, angel,” Crowley complained, for lack of anything better to say.

“Whatever you want to call it, it’s heavenly.”

“Whatever you say. What about stickers? Stickers are pretty great. I still have my James Bond bullet hole stickers on my Bentley…”

“You’re changing the subject,” Aziraphale accused.

Crowley was definitely doing exactly that, and sputtered for a moment, unable to say anything reasonable or that made sense. He was definitely too drunk for this, and wondered about sobering up. 

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t enjoy sex,” Aziraphale lectured with a wagging finger. “You and I have done too much together for me to believe that.”

“I’m not… I didn’t…”

“Good,” Aziraphale said, sounding satisfied. “I’d be rather miffed at you if you tried to deny that you’d enjoyed our time together.”

“Of course I enjoyed it,” Crowley muttered, then pursed his lips shut before he could say anything else. 

“Good to hear.” 

They both lapsed into silence. Crowley was deeply uncomfortable and strongly considered leaving before they could talk any more about sex. His mind’s eye unhelpfully replayed scenes for him: he and Aziraphale tangled together, naked and sweaty, having sex all across time. They were memories he usually kept locked down until he was alone in his bed at night and could relive those times with his hand on his lonely cock. He did his best to push them back down now. Here, in Aziraphale’s back room, the site of so many of his fantasies (and most of their encounters), was _not_ the time to dwell on them. 

Aziraphale looked pensive again, and Crowley was mildly terrified. There was no telling what the angel was thinking. But, like the drunken fool he was (and desperate to change the subject), he asked, “Penny for ‘em.”

The angel didn’t answer right away. He continued to look deep in thought and sip his wine. Crowley watched him carefully, waiting, until finally, Aziraphale spoke. 

“I’m thinking I was wrong earlier. When I said sex was man’s greatest creation.”

Grateful that it seemed the subject was _finally_ changing, Crowley seized on that. “Oh? Then what is? Does it start with S?”

“No, it doesn’t. I’d say man’s greatest achievement is romantic love.”

“Romantic love?”

“Yes. Surely you’re familiar with it? It’s delightful when it’s reciprocated.”

Crowley would have no way of knowing what it was like to have his love reciprocated, so he just grinned in response. “Been in love a great deal, have you?”

“Oh, once or twice,” Aziraphale said arily, with a dismissive wave. “I’m six thousand years old, after all. I’ve done a fair amount of living in that time.”

Crowley had been on earth for the same six thousand years, and had done his fair share of living, but he’d never loved anyone but Aziraphale. Not one soul. But he didn’t dare say that. In fact, he prepared himself to lie about it.

“Tell me about them,” he said, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine. He needed to be drunk if he was going to hear this, but perhaps he _needed_ to hear it. It would feel like being emotionally crucified, but maybe that’s what he needed. It was certainly what he deserved. Maybe, after Aziraphale detailed all the people he’d loved who were certainly not Crowley, he could slink back off to his flat and wallow in his misery, alone and unloved. Yes, that was _exactly_ what he deserved.

“Well,” Aziraphale started, swirling his wine. “I was rather fond of a knight in King Authur’s court. He and I had quite the torrid love affair, but it was short lived. As all relationships are with humans, I suppose. Then there was an Italian sculptor during the renaissance, although I think I may have loved his art more than him. Most recently, I had a love affair with Oscar Wilde.”

“Oscar Wilde?” Crowley asked, not wanting to know. This had been a bad idea and he very much wanted to escape.

“Yes. In the late nineteenth century. He and I attended the same gentlemen’s club and hit it off. Such a bright boy, he was. This was while you weren’t speaking to me.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, I loved all of them. They were special men, to be sure. But as much as I loved them, it was always fleeting, almost... superficial. It was real, but it wasn’t. Does that make sense? And I never loved any of them even a fraction as much as I love you.”

The wine Crowley had been drinking made a sudden reappearance, some of it sloshing back into his glass, most of it dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. Aziraphale tutted and waved a hand, cleaning him up, but Crowley barely even noticed. 

“Really, dear, that's a waste of perfectly good alcohol.”

Crowley just sat stunned, staring at Aziraphale. He must be much drunker than he’d thought. That was the only explanation for what he’d just heard - or misheard. Surely he’d heard wrong.

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked kindly, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile. 

“I’m fine. Fine,” Crowley said, recovering. “I just thought you said… nevermind. I’m fine.”

“You thought I’d said what?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

“It’s important to me. What did you hear?”

Crowley swallowed hard, his eyes still wide. “I thought you said you’d loved all those men, but not nearly as much as you loved me.”

“Oh, then you heard perfectly,” Aziraphale said with a smile, sitting back in his chair and looking satisfied. “I love you tremendously, dear, and have for a very long time.”

“Ngk.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You can’t possibly… you don’t… _angel_...”

“Yes?”

Crowley struggled to think of what to say. His brain was a jumble he couldn’t make sense of, and he certainly couldn’t express. So he just stared helplessly. 

Aziraphale sat up in his chair, sat down his empty wine glass, then leaned forward, placing his hand on Crowley’s knee. Crowley stared at it dumbly. 

“Look at me, dearest.”

Crowley did so, seeking out Aziraphale’s blue eyes, his face slack from shock. “Angel…”

“I love you, Crowley. I’ve loved you for centuries, but I didn’t recognize it for what it was until much later. Can you forgive me?”

“You’re drunk,” Crowley blurted, grasping at anything to explain the situation he was in. “You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

Aziraphale gave him a small smile. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart? I’m inebriated, yes, and that’s almost certainly giving me the courage to say these things, but my state of intoxication doesn’t make what I’m saying untrue.”

Crowley just gaped. This didn’t make sense. It didn’t compute. 

“If it bothers you so much, I’ll sober up,” Aziraphale offered. “But that won’t change the truth of what I’m saying.”

Aziraphale screwed up his face in concentration, grunting a little, and the scattered bottles around the room began to refill. Crowley watched in amazement as the angel sobered up, then smacked his mouth as if he had an unpleasant taste. That done, he turned back to Crowley. “Better?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you’d better sober up, too, my dear, so we can talk about this.”

That seemed like a good idea. Maybe things would make more sense if he sobered up. He gave a short nod, then screwed up his face, willing the alcohol from his system. It took a few moments, and when he was done, he opened his eyes to see that Aziraphale had moved and was now sitting on the couch next to him, gently cradling one of his hands in his. Crowley looked down at it blankly. Sobering up hadn’t given him the clarity he’d hoped for. This still didn’t make sense.

“Crowley?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me, my love.”

Crowley did so, with wide eyes, and the next thing he knew, Aziraphale had his lips pressed to his. The kiss was soft, gentle, and Crowley was utterly stiff, completely in shock. It took a mighty effort, but he didn’t melt into the kiss the way he wanted to. That didn’t slow Aziraphale down, though. The angel kept kissing him softly, his free hand coming up to rest on Crowley’s cheek. 

After a few moments, Aziraphale broke the kiss and pulled back with a sigh, laying his forehead against a shocked Crowley’s. His hand caressed Crowley’s cheek and he closed his eyes. 

“Crowley, my dear, my most darling one… I love you so much. I love you with every step and every breath - and now I can _finally_ say so. I’ve been such a coward, such a pathetic coward, and I’ve hurt you so deeply. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Angel…”

“I won’t ask you to love me, too. Asking for your love would be so incredibly selfish, especially after everything I’ve put you through. I don’t deserve your love. But I want it. I covet it. I want to be loved by you, to be the one you choose above all others. I want to be your everything, Crowley. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I’m so terribly afraid I’ve ruined everything. I can’t help the feeling that I once had your heart, but I drove you away when I wouldn’t give you the holy water. My worst fear - even though I couldn’t acknowledge it - was a life without you in it, and you made me live that fear for eighty long years. You stayed away for so long, so very long, and I was miserable without you. Then you appeared in 1941 and I had hope again. Maybe, I thought, you could love me again. But you stayed away after that. You didn’t come back. So I did what I swore I wouldn’t and gave you the holy water, thinking that might earn your love again. I was so hopeful. But it didn’t work and I still didn’t see you for forty years. I was so sure you’d come back to me after I gave you the water. Why didn’t you come back to me?” he finished, his voice plaintive and sad.

Crowley swallowed hard, his mind racing at lightning speed. How honest did he want to be?

“The water was never the problem, angel.”

Aziraphale sat back from him, his eyes confused. “It wasn't?”

Crowley shook his head. “No.”

“Well, what was it?”

This was it. This was the moment of truth. He could bare his soul now and let the chips fall where they may - should he? Could he? It felt like he was standing on a ledge, high above the ground, preparing to take a flying leap with no net in sight, and he was terrified. 

He couldn’t do it. Not yet.

“I’ll tell you sometime later. Not now. For right now, I’m still trying to make sense of what you said.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

Aziraphale laughed lightly, stroking his cheek with a fond expression. “My darling, I love you so.”

“But two days ago, you were saying we weren’t even friends,” he pointed out, still reeling. 

“I know I did. I was afraid. It’s just one more way I’ve hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?”

Crowley ducked his head a little and flushed. “I’d forgive you anything, angel.”

“But I’ve behaved so terribly. For centuries! How could you possibly?”

The flush Crowley felt deepened. “I mean, I guess what that Paul bloke said is true, in that book. ‘Love endures all things, believes all things, hopes all things, forgives all things.’ All that rot.”

Aziraphale’s expression brightened. “Does that mean…?”

Crowley nodded, his cheeks burning, his heart pounding and his eyes prickling. “Yeah. That’s what I mean.”

The next thing he knew, he was engaged in a toe-curling kiss, hard and exuberant, Aziraphale clutching him. He parted his lips to deepen it, but Aziraphale broke away and started peppering Crowley’s face with kisses. 

“I love you, Crowley, I love you so much... Oh, my dear, I’ll never hurt you again. I _love you_.”

Crowley let out a huff of a laugh and felt two tears fall from his eyes. Aziraphale kissed them away. 

“Oh, my love, you’ve made me the happiest being that ever existed! I swear, I _vow_ to do everything in my power to make you as happy as I am for the rest of eternity.”

“Just… love me. That’s all I need.”

“I do, my darling. I love you, and I have loved you for centuries. I just didn't realize that was what I felt.”

Crowley sniffed absently. “Centuries?”

“Yes, dear. I can't pinpoint exactly when, but it’s been a very long time.”

“Long time for me, too. Do you remember that night in 1603? At the inn? I realized then. I’d - I’d felt that way for longer, but I realized then.”

Aziraphale pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I realized in 1941. I’d spent the time you were gone missing you and trying to fill the void you’d left, but I couldn’t. Nothing and nobody was enough.”

“Not even Oscar Wilde?”

The angel stroked Crowley’s cheek with his thumb, smiling gently. “Nothing and nobody was enough,” he repeated.

Crowley swallowed. “I never touched another soul after that night in 1603. I couldn’t stand the thought. I… I just wanted you.”

“I never touched another soul after that night in 1941, my dear. I wanted you or no one else.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. And I regret nearly everyone else I touched when I was trying to fill that void. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive angel. I… I lo…” He tried to form the words, and the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him.

Aziraphale smiled and covered his lips with a finger. “You don’t have to say it. I know, dear. I know.”

Crowley nodded, accepting his words. He kissed the finger against his lips and Aziraphale lowered it with a smile. “So what do we do now?”

“Well,” Aziraphale started, his eyes twinkling, “we’ve saved the world, defied heaven and hell, and confessed our undying love to each other, all within the last twenty-four hours.”

“That’s quite a day,” Crowley remarked with an almost sheepish grin. 

Aziraphale returned the smile. “What would you say to a celebratory shag?”

“Ngk.”

“That doesn’t tell me much, dear,” Aziraphale teased. “I’d very much like to make love to you.”

Crowley struggled to come up with the appropriate words. “Yeah, no, yeah, I...um… I think that would be brilliant. Absolutely.”

Aziraphale leaned over and kissed him slowly, then said, “It’ll be the first time we make love. At least, the first official time.”

Crowley nodded. “I was always making love, angel.”

Another soft kiss. “I know. Shall we adjourn upstairs?”

“You have a bedroom?”

“Just miracled it together,” Aziraphale answered with a grin. 

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. Let’s… let’s go to your room.”

The angel got to his feet and Crowley followed, feeling so many things he could hardly sort them out. There would be time to sort them later, though. For now, he followed the gentle pull of Aziraphale’s hand up the stairwell and down the short corridor to an oaken door. Aziraphale pushed open the door and Crowley followed him inside. He didn’t know what he’d expected to see, but the room that Aziraphale had miracled together surprised him. It was large, larger than should have been possible above the shop, and very luxurious. There was a huge four-poster bed in the corner covered in a deep red duvet with assorted, coordinated, tartan pillows at the head. Heavy brocade curtains framed the windows, which looked out over the cityscape. There was a fireplace on one wall with a fire burning merrily in the grate, and in front of that fire was a small sitting area, with a long, comfortable looking couch. There were bookshelves lining the walls, of course, and books sitting on the tables beside the couch, but, surprisingly, a vase of long stem roses on the table beside the bed. It was the perfect blend of the two of them. 

“I hope you like it,” Aziraphale said, sounding a little unsure. “I had no idea what you’d like in a bedroom, really, so I had to guess.”

“It’s lovely. You miracled yourself a wonderful room.”

“Oh. Well, I'd hoped that it could be _our_ bedroom. If you’d like.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Ours?”

Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip. “I’d - I’d like it if you stayed here, at least some of the time. You could stay with me all of the time, if you liked. I thought -”

His next words were cut off when Crowley captured his mouth in a near ferocious kiss, one hand threading through the blond curls to hold the angel still. Aziraphale whimpered, but gave as good as he got, his tongue exploring Crowley’s mouth and his hands clutching at Crowley’s sides. Crowley kissed him hungrily, his whole body getting involved, pressing his body against his angel’s, letting his lean lines be absorbed by Aziraphale’s soft curves. His cock was hardening rapidly, and he could feel the hard line of Aziraphale’s against him. His hands roamed and explored, plucking at clothing impatiently. 

Just when he raised his hand to snap his fingers and miracle them both naked, Aziraphale raised his own hand and covered his fingers. 

“I want to do this the human way. I want to savor this. At least this time. Will you let me?”

Crowley was helpless to do anything but nod, and Aziraphale smiled serenely. His eyes left Crowley’s and he started by removing Crowley’s tie, tossing it carelessly to the side, then starting to unbutton his shirt with dextrous fingers. Crowley just watched him, transfixed, completely blown away by the angel’s beauty and the fact that this was even happening, after so many years.

When a triangle of skin was bared, Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his lips to it, kissing ardently, still working on the rest of the buttons. “I love you, my darling,” he murmured between kisses against Crowley’s heated flesh. “I love you so much. Oh, my love…”

“Angel,” Crowley rasped, but Aziraphale didn’t answer. He finished unbuttoning the shirt and raised his hands up to Crowley’s shoulders, pushing the shirt off and leaving him bare chested. His tongue found Crowley’s nipple, circling it, and Crowley keened. 

As soon as he got the shirt off, Aziraphale went to work on his belt and trousers. Crowley was breathing heavily, his breath coming in ragged pants, feeling a shock of sensation every time the angel’s hands brushed against his straining cock. After an eternity (or maybe just a few moments), Aziraphale was able to grab handfuls of Crowley’s trousers and pants and pull them down. Crowley figured the angel would forgive him for a quick miracle and snapped his fingers to remove his socks and shoes. Aziraphale didn’t comment, he merely smiled and knelt down, guiding Crowley’s trousers off of him. Crowley stepped out of them obediently and suddenly he was standing there before the angel utterly nude, desperate for more touch. 

Aziraphale took a minute to look at Crowley, his eyes raking him from head to toe, and in spite of himself, Crowley swallowed hard. Aziraphale smiled. “You’re lovely, my dear. The most beautiful of all Her creations. And you’re all mine.”

Crowley nodded, admitting the truth he’d known for hundreds and hundreds of years. “All yours.”

Aziraphale stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his eager lips, wrapping one hand around Crowley’s cock. He moaned from the sensation and Aziraphale smiled against his mouth. 

“Can I suck you off, dear? I’ve been so _thirsty_ for the taste of you - all of you. May I? Please?”

Crowley nodded dumbly and Aziraphale smiled brighter. “Go to the bed, my love.”

The demon hustled to obey, finding, when he turned around, that the bed had already been turned down to reveal dark red, silk sheets. Crowley climbed on the bed and lay down, nearly trembling with want. When he looked over at Aziraphale, he saw the angel removing his jacket, then unbuttoning his waistcoat. Crowley watched him with hungry, yellow eyes until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and suddenly Aziraphale was just as naked as Crowley was - and looking very surprised, indeed. 

His surprised look quickly turned into a smirk, and he gazed upon Crowley with burning eyes. “Eager, are we, dear?”

“I just wanted to see you. You’re beautiful.”

Aziraphale approached the bed and climbed on beside Crowley. “Thank you, my love. Shall I suck your cock now?”

Crowley nodded vigorously. “Please. Please suck my cock.”

The angel wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock, giving it a couple of gentle pumps, and leaned over to kiss Crowley. The demon was only too happy to return the kiss, slavishly grateful for it. He was on the verge of overstimulated - and they’d barely gotten started yet.

He grabbed at the angel, wanting him close, wanting to feel his warmth and weight, and was gratified when Aziraphale lay on top of him, still kissing him eagerly. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, his hands roaming the expanse of soft skin, worshiping with his touch. Aziraphale responded to the touches by rolling his hips, undulating against Crowley, and it drove his need higher. 

After a while, Aziraphale broke the kiss, softening the loss with several small busses to his lips, then looked down at Crowley with his ocean blue eyes full of love. 

“I love you, my darling, more fully and completely than any creature has ever loved another.”

Crowley nearly whimpered.

“Do you believe me?”

He nodded. He’d believe anything Aziraphale said, even impossible things, like the notion that he, a demon, could be loved.

“I’m afraid I’m crushing you.”

Crowley shook his head in denial. “You’re not. You feel good.”

Aziraphale smiled, one eyebrow going up. “Do I?”

“God, yes.”

“Will you let me make you feel better?”

Crowley stroked his angel’s back. “I can’t imagine ever feeling better than I do right now.”

“I love you, too, my darling. But will you let me try?”

He nodded. “Anything, angel.”

Aziraphale pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you. Here’s what I want to do. I want you to lay there and let me take care of you. I’ve behaved so abysmally, I’ve mistreated you so, I want to make up for that as best I can. I want to _show_ you how much I love you.”

“You don’t have to --”

“I want to. Please?”

Crowley swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

The angel smiled and kissed him again, and Crowley returned the kiss with all the love he felt, holding nothing back. For the first time in two thousand years, he held nothing back. 

He couldn’t help a whimper when Aziraphale withdrew his lips, but he didn’t go far. He started pressing kisses to the line of Crowley’s jaw, then down the column of his neck. Slowly, so slowly, he ran his tongue along Crowley’s collarbones, nipping at his throat. The angel shifted his weight off of Crowley, gradually crawling down his body, murmuring words of love and praise into his skin the whole way. 

“You are so beautiful, my love, perfectly formed in every way. Your skin is like velvet, so soft and smooth to the touch, and I love touching you so much. I hope you’ll always let me touch you. Will you, my dear? Will you always surrender your body to me?”

“Fuck yes, always, you can touch me anytime you want, just please…”

“Patience, my love,” Aziraphale chided gently as he ringed Crowley’s nipple with his tongue. “I’m not done worshiping you. And you’re so very worthy of worship.”

“I’m - I’m not. I’m a demon.”

“Yes, you are a demon, but you’re also the most beautiful of God’s creations. Really, the loveliest in every way. And you’re so _good_ , Crowley. So good and so pure of heart...is there any wonder I love you so?”

There was a part of him that wanted to rebel at the tender words of praise, but the larger part of him, the part he’d kept hidden for his entire corporation, unfurled like a flower in the sun. It was _wrong_ for a demon to be slathered with praise - and he wanted more of it.

That thought was driven out of his mind temporarily when Aziraphale wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock and pumped it lightly, while dipping his tongue into the demon’s navel. Crowley bucked his hips up into Aziraphale’s hand, earning a chuckle from the angel. 

“It’s alright, dear… I’ll give you what you need.”

“I need _you_ ,” he groaned, clenching and releasing his hands fretfully. 

“You do?” Aziraphale asked with a tone of false innocence, the bastard.

“Please, angel. I’ll do anythi - _oh!_ ”

His words were cut off when Aziraphale engulfed his cock in his hot, wet mouth. Crowley’s back arched off the bed and he cried out, his hands going to the angel’s hair and clutching desperately. Aziraphale hummed around his cock, a pleased little sound, then started sucking in earnest, bobbing his head. His cheeks hollowed with every upstroke, and Crowley flung his head back on the pillows, his eyes screwed shut, focusing all of his attention on his cock - and how fucking _amazing_ Aziraphale’s mouth felt. 

It was too good, though, and before long, he felt the telltale sign of orgasm stirring, the pressure building. 

“Angel,” he started, his voice rough with need. “Angel, I’m going to come…”

That didn’t slow Aziraphale down in the slightest. In fact, he started sucking _harder_ , his hand pumping what his mouth couldn’t reach. With a mighty effort, Crowley raised his head and looked down at the angel sucking his cock. Aziraphale’s eyes were closed, the look on his face almost joyful, and Crowley loved him _so fucking much_...

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked up at Crowley. Their eyes locked, but Aziraphale didn’t falter in his sucking. There was so much Crowley wanted to say, his heart was so full, but he was speechless. He just stared, panting for breath, watching the angel pleasure him. 

Then he felt a slick finger probing his entrance, massaging and pressing, and he groaned brokenly. 

“Jesus, angel… feels so good. Don’t stop.”

The finger at his arsehole was circling him, and he thought about using a miracle to open himself up, but decided against it. He loved the stretch, the slow build of it, and wanted more. Everything.

“I’m gonna come, angel. You’re gonna make me come. Fuck! Please…”

The finger breached him gently, and Crowley came with a ragged, mangled cry of Aziraphale’s name, his hips bucking helplessly, his mind going as blank as his vision. 

Hours or minutes later, he floated back down to earth on a cloud of bliss. He was dimly aware of his arse being empty again and Aziraphale licking him clean, creating little aftershocks with every stroke of his tongue. 

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, his chest heaving.

Aziraphale pressed one last kiss to Crowley’s cock, then used his hand to drag it along his smooth face. “Now, dear, I don’t think there’s any need to bring anyone else into this…”

Crowley raised his head to look at his smirking angel. “You just sucked my brains out through my cock,” he accused.

“That good?”

“Holy _fuck_ , angel.”

“We’re going to, and it may not be holy, but I daresay it’s going to be divine.”

Crowley didn’t doubt that for a minute. He reached for Aziraphale, but the angel backed away a little, shaking his head. Trying not to be hurt, Crowley asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not done with you, is all. Can I try something?”

“You can do anything you want to me, Aziraphale. Anything at all.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Good. I want you to continue to lie there like the good boy you are, alright? And do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Talk to me. Let me hear you. I want to know I’m pleasing you.”

“Oh - okay…”

The angel smiled and placed another kiss to the tip of Crowley’s hard cock. “Lovely. Shall we begin?”

Crowley had no idea what was about to happen, but he nodded anyway. Aziraphale kissed the head of his cock again, then ran his tongue down the underside, towards his bollocks. When he reached Crowley’s balls, he kissed them gently, then licked them. Crowley hissed a breath, but kept his eyes firmly on the angel. Aziraphale maintained eye contact with him for a few minutes, until he sucked one of Crowley’s balls into his mouth, then he closed his eyes and gave a blissed-out moan. 

“Fuck, angel… feels so good… your mouth feels so good on me…”

Aziraphale sucked happily for a while, first one bollock, then the other, and slowly and gently spread the demon’s legs wider. Crowley didn’t care. He’d do anything Aziraphale wanted. Anything at all. 

When he released the second bollock, Crowley felt the angel’s tongue on his perineum and groaned. Aziraphale still pressed his legs wider apart, and Crowley let his head fall back onto the pillows. 

His head snapped up when he felt something warm and wet at his entrance - that was _not_ a finger. 

“Angel? What are you doing?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, he just ringed his tongue around Crowley’s rim, making him gasp. The hands on Crowley’s thighs pushed them wide apart, then back, opening him up more. The more he was spread, the deeper Aziraphale buried his face between Crowley’s cheeks, his tongue exploring. 

“Oh, angel… Fuck! Ah! Ah!”

Aziraphale stopped for a moment and raised his head a little. “Do you like it, dear?”

“God, yes. Fuck, yes. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Oh, my love, don’t you know me by now? I never stop eating a delicious meal until I’m satisfied… and you’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Now, be a good chap and hold your legs.”

Crowley didn’t hesitate to grab his own thighs and pull them back, almost to his chest, spreading himself wide. 

“That’s a love,” Aziraphale said approvingly, then used his own hands to part Crowley’s cheeks further. “Such a good boy.” Then he dove back in.

Crowley cried out, he babbled, he pleaded, he swore, and through it all, Aziraphale ate of him like a man starving. He moaned against Crowley’s arsehole, sounds of pleasure, which were accompanied by wet slurping sounds that were downright obscene. Crowley was nearly mindess, utterly lost to the sensation, and felt damn close to coming again, even though his cock was untouched. 

Then Aziraphale used his tongue to open Crowley up, and the demon nearly screamed in pleasure. 

The angel fucked him with his tongue while Crowley begged for more, his cock leaking like a perverse faucet, creating a small pool of come on his hard belly. He wondered wildly if Aziraphale had used a miracle to lengthen his tongue or something, then promptly dismissed the thought as unimportant when the angel found his prostate and applied his agile tongue. Crowley was beyond language then, reduced to animalistic sounds bereft of consonants. His fingernails were digging crescents into his thighs, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. He thought he’d die of pleasure. 

Then Aziraphale _hummed_ with his tongue buried in Crowley and the demon screamed, his orgasm tearing through him with the force of a tsunami, rendering him nothing more than a bundle of sensation, flying high above the clouds. 

Aziraphale withdrew his tongue and pressed one more kiss to Crowley’s fluttering hole. That done, he pressed himself up onto his hands and knees, giving Crowley a pleased look. Crowley barely had time to feel empty before the angel had two fingers circling his rim, then pressing inside. Aziraphale maintained eye contact as he lowered his face to Crowley’s belly and began to lick up his spend. 

Crowley groaned, his head dropping back onto the pillow again, and closed his eyes. Aziraphale continued to clean his belly and fucked him gently with his fingers, scissoring them a little, opening him up. He made more of his little sounds and Crowey wanted to watch, he did, but he was on the cusp of overwhelmed at the moment. He didn’t think he could. 

When he seemed to have licked Crowley clean, Aziraphale started pressing kisses to Crowley’s heaving chest, working his way up slowly, his fingers still fucking him. Crowley did his best to regulate his breathing and heart rate, but was too overstimulated to do much. He managed to raise his head when Aziraphale got close, and released one of his legs to grab at the angel’s head, dragging him down into a messy, desperate kiss. 

The angel smiled when the kiss broke, still fingering Crowley’s arse. “Alright?”

“God, angel. That was amazing.”

“I’m so very glad to hear it. I’d like to do it again sometime. Quite often, I should think.”

Crowley just nodded.

Aziraphale smiled again and gave him a soft kiss. “Good. I love you so much, my darling.”

“Angel…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I know.”

Crowley felt rubbish for not saying the words, but didn’t get long to feel bad before Aziraphale was kissing him again. 

“Can I make love to you, my sweet? May I please fuck you?”

“Please, angel. Please fuck me.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Lovely.”

Slowly, with his eyes locked on Crowley’s, he withdrew his fingers from Crowley’s loosened hole. He whimpered a little from the loss, but only a second later, he felt the slick head of Aziraphale’s cock pressing against his entrance. 

“Yes, angel, please…”

“Hush now, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

The pressure grew until there was a slight pop, and both of them sighed. Aziraphale lowered his head to press his forehead against Crowley’s, closing his eyes, and Crowley let his eyes slide closed, too. 

Slowly, so slowly, Aziraphale slid deeper and deeper until he was finally fully seated inside Crowley. When he was buried as far as he could go, he kissed Crowley gently. 

“I love you, dearest. My beloved.”

“Angel…”

Aziraphale kissed him again, then slid himself out as slowly as he’d entered. When only the head was left inside and Crowley panicked that he may withdraw entirely, he slid back in. Crowley clutched him, one hand buried in his hair, one hand gripping his gorgeous arse. 

“You feel so good, Crowley,” he said in a sotto tone, as he fucked him in and out again. “So good, so perfect. So good for me.”

“You - oh - you feel good, too.”

“And now we can do this forever. Anytime we want, we can make love like this. Because I love you and you love me. Don’t you, dear? Oh, you’re so good, Crowley, so good for me.”

“More,” Crowley gasped, and he wasn’t sure if he was asking to be fucked harder or praised more. Both, probably.

Aziraphale sped up his thrust a little - still at a leisurely pace, but gaining momentum. “You are the finest of all God’s creations, the most wonderful… a shoddy demon, to be sure, but wonderful. I love you so much.”

Crowley started pressing frantic kisses to whatever skin his mouth could reach - Aziraphale’s shoulders, his neck, his cheeks. His mouth he left alone, so he could hear more of the angel’s blessed words. 

“Oh, your arse is perfection, Crowley. I love fucking you. Do you like me fucking you?”

“Yes, please, please, more…”

Aziraphale sped up again, fucking him in earnest now, thier bodies making a slapping sound with every thrust. 

“Oh, how I missed this. I missed _you_. You must promise me, dear, never to leave me like that again.”

“I promise. I promise. I’ll never leave you, Aziraphale. Please…”

“You’ll be mine forever and I’ll be yours. We’ll be together, on our own side. Tell me.”

“Yes, angel, yes. Me and you. Just please, _please_ fuck me harder.”

Aziraphale complied, fucking the demon hard and fast, making him cry out. His whole body moved with the force of each thrust and he gripped Aziraphale tight, clinging to him. 

“Do you like that?” Aziraphale asked in halting speech, broken by thrusts. “You like it hard and fast? I do so want to please you.”

“Angel, angel, _please…_ ”

“Going to come soon, my love. I can’t stop now. I’m going to come for you.”

“Yes! Please! Fill my arse with it!”

“Can you come for me, you beautiful boy? Do you have one more in you?”

“God! Yes! I can, gonna come for you… all for you…”

Aziraphale raised himself to be able to fit his hand between their bodies and grab Crowley’s leaking cock. Crowley cried out, flinging his head back, and Aziraphale took him harder, pumping his cock mercilessly. 

“Come for me, Crowey. Oh! Come, my love.”

Crowley obeyed, erupting for a third time, this time more intensely than he’d ever come in his life. Every cell in his body sang out in praise, and his cock spurted helplessly. He was dimly aware of Aziraphale releasing his cock, propping himself up, then pounding into Crowley with reckless abandon until he stiffened, crying out Crowley’s name, hot come flooding Crowley’s insides.

~*~O~*~

Crowley was replete, snuggled into Aziraphale’s arms, thoroughly enjoying his afterglow. His head was resting on the angel’s shoulder, his arm slung across Aziraphale’s broad, soft chest and their legs tangled. In all the times they’d had sex, they’d never held each other like this, and it was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Crowley never wanted it to end and sighed, blissfully content. 

Aziraphale stroked his bare shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Alright?”

Crowley hummed and snuggled in deeper. “Never been better, angel.”

“Good,” came the soft reply, followed by the press of warm lips against his hair. Crowley smiled. 

“Do you believe me, my darling?”

“Believe what?”

“That I love you.”

Crowley thought for a second. “I believe you, but I don’t understand it.”

“What is there to understand?”

“All of it, I suppose.”

“I love you desperately, Crowley, my dear. You are everything I want for the rest of eternity. I want to spend all the time we have left with you, and I’ll do anything and everything I can for the next six thousand years to convince you.”

“I believe you. I think. It’s just… quite a turnaround from your usual assertion that we’re not even friends.”

“I was wrong to say that. You are my friend, and you have been for many centuries. I was just too cowardly to acknowledge it. Can you ever forgive me?”

Crowley cuddled closer. “Of course I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Crowley a little closer. “Thank you. I love you.”

They lay there like that for some time, letting the minutes tick by, long past the point that one or the other of them would usually get up and leave. Crowley worried slightly that Aziraphale would tire of holding him, but the angel seemed content and Crowley wasn’t about to question his good fortune. 

But the fact that he hadn’t expressed his love bothered him. Aziraphale deserved that, deserved _everything_ , and the least Crowley could do would be to tell him how he felt. He swallowed hard. 

“Angel?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“I do, you know. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t even remember a time when I didn’t love you.”

Aziraphale smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s lips. “I know, beloved. And I love you, too.”

“Forever, yeah?”

“Forever, Crowley.”


End file.
